Empyreal
by Shibby-One
Summary: What if, instead of a human becoming a ghost, a ghost... became human?
1. One

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-One-_

* * *

_ "You're one of the ones who were never born."_

_I glanced up at the sudden words. Master Clockwork usually didn't talk about me, ever. Normally it was just "Why aren't you studying this?" or "Why aren't you practicing that?" He was like that nagging teacher that always would hound you until you were driven up a wall. Never once were my origins spoken of._

_But right now, I was his main focus._

_"What do you mean?" I asked, shifting, Cujo stirring in my lap. Master just placed a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes._

_"You're one of the specters who never lived amongst humans," he said, as if this thought had just occurred to him. "It's… odd. I've never worked closely with one of those types of ghosts before."_

_"Is it bad?" I asked. I never really thought about my own existence before._

_"No, Phantom, it isn't bad," he said, his elderly form glancing back at me. "It's… it's just rather sad is all."_

"What do you want us to call you? Danny? Daniel?"

I'm not used to the feeling of warmth.

Before now, I didn't even understand what warmth was, or that I existed in a cold abyss. My fingers have nerves in them now, which send sensations running throughout my body at breakneck speeds.

But I've never had a body before, either. This is all incredibly new and complex to me. I feel like I'm wearing a large jacket that completely holds my form in, keeping me cozy and warm. Every few moments I placed my fingertips on my chest, feeling the gentle beating of my heart.

_This… is incredible._

_I wish I could have done this before._

Things that people need to know were infused straight into my subconscious. I don't know how, but when I agreed to this, I woke up the next day with all this newfound… knowledge.

"You'll need it," my master had told me, giving me his odd, calm smile. "I think you'll greatly enjoy being amongst the living."

I'm still not used to this reflection.

Every time I catch myself in a mirror, or a window or on the stainless steel refrigerator door, I see something that isn't me. I see thick, dark hair covering bright blue eyes, and pale skin that's pinkish in tone. It's bizarre – to me, anyway.

"…Daniel?"

I glanced up at my new 'mother' of the moment. Has she been speaking to me this entire time? I was being shocked into seeing my living self, for the millionth time since I found myself in this town. I was also thinking of what happened back 'home', when I was first given this chance.

She frowned slightly, raising one eyebrow in what I guessed was a confused expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Fenton," I murmured, tearing my eyes away from the window. "D-Danny's fine."

"What a pretty name," she said, sighing contentedly. I smiled, glad to cheer her up. She seemed extremely tensed about this entire situation. "If I ever had a son, I would've named him Daniel."

Her daughter, Jazz (I think that was her name?) lifted my bag into the back of her little black car.

"Mom, c'mon, we have to get him all comfortable at home," she said, smiling at me. "You'll be staying in our spare room for the time being." She excitedly closed the trunk and hopped into the driver's seat, gesturing to her mother and myself to follow.

We opened the doors and slid inside, myself taking up the back seat. Jazz revved the car into gear (I have no idea what the even _means, _yet I knew that's what she had done) and pulled into the street, taking us down winding roads lined with huge buildings.

"So, Danny, how long are you here for?" Mrs. Fenton (she insisted I called her Maddie, but I wasn't comfortable with that yet) asked, turning around in her seat. I smiled politely.

"Only three months," I replied.

Only three months until I go back to being… whatever I was. What am I considered? A monster? An apparition? A spirit?

A ghost?

"So, how did you get entered into this program?" Mrs. Fenton was asking me. My thoughts were getting all jumbled and mixed up in my head again. Ever since having this new body, my thoughts feel all cramped up inside this head, as if they have no room to reverberate off of each other anymore.

"Oh – I wrote an essay about why I should be an exchange student," I answered, remembering my lines almost perfectly. Master would be proud of my delivery.

"And, where are you from, again?"

"Moooom! Stop asking so many questions! He's _my_ guest, not your interview subject!" Mrs. Fenton just rolled her eyes at her daughter's angry outbursts.

"Just ignore her, Danny," Jazz said as we pulled behind a big brick building. She turned the car off and swiftly turned around to look at me.

"Welcome to Amity Park," she said, gesturing around her at the general neighborhood. "I hope your stay with us is as wonderful as you'd hoped it would be."

So do I.

* * *

This is what it's like to be human. 

The room was a bit sparse, but it had a bed and a dresser, and windows that closed at night and lights that came on all the way. It certainly wasn't a bad setup at all.

I sat down on the bed, testing its feel. It felt very soft and comfortable – almost as if it were brand new. I placed my hands on it, feeling that same rush of excitement as I could _feel_ the bed beneath my hands. Ever since gaining this body, I've only slept in a bed a few times, and each time has been exhilarating.

But then again, one can only expect that.

"Danny? How's the room?" Jazz asked from the doorway. I looked around and smiled at her.

"It's awesome," I told her, lying back on the bed. "This is already better than I thought it would be." Jazz smiled, pushing her red hair behind her ears. She bore a great resemblance to her mother, with her bright hair, thin figure and bright, inquisitive eyes.

"Well, I'm glad," she said, stepping into the doorway. "I just wanted to let you know that you'll start school with me on Monday. Unfortunately, I'm two years older than you, so you'll be two grades below me." I just looked back at her. I had a vague idea of how the school system works, but since I've never been to school, I just let her tell me about it.

"So, the school's assigning you a guide-buddy-type-person for the week," she continued, not noticing my lack of response. "His name iiiiiiiis… Tucker Foley," she read off of a sheet of paper. "He's a Freshman, just like you. I don't know this kid, but I'm guessing he's a pretty good person if they're allowing him to be your guide."

"Tucker Foley, huh?" I said, wondering who on earth that could be. "Sounds interesting."

"Yeah… Freshmen are weird," she said, giving me a playful smile. "I'll be driving you to school normally, unless, well, I can't for some reason, I guess," she said thoughtfully. "And um… there's a dress code, but it isn't a real strict one. It's the normal thing you see at high schools – no indecent exposure, or gang colors, or offensive clothes and whatnot. But you don't seem like the person who would wear any of that anyway, and—" she stopped talking suddenly and blushed. "Am I talking too much?"

"No, it's fine," I answered. "I mean, I guess I'll need to know this eventually, anyway, right?"

"Well… yeah, yeah you're right, you do," she said. She walked across the room and sat down on the bed next to me.

"Well, quite honestly, the reason I've been so enthusiastic about this whole thing is because… I'm an only child," she said, beginning what I could tell would be a lengthy story. "Most of the kids at school have at least one other sibling – y'know, two kids, two parents, the 'ideal family'? Ever since—" she stopped, swallowed, and started again. "Well anyway, I've always wanted a sibling. That's one of the reasons my parents agreed to house you in the program. They know I've always wanted a sibling, so…" she trailed off. I just looked at her.

_I've never had a sibling, either,_ I wanted to say to her. _I've always been on my own, too._ I felt this great sense of loss inside of me, something that I'd never really experienced before. I'd only just met her and yet, I felt this strange connection to her. It was as if I were reuniting with an old friend.

"I'll stop rambling," she said, standing up. She walked over to the doorway. "I mean, I know we just formally met, but… I kinda feel like I've known you for awhile, y'know? Or am I just being to up-front?" she sighed.

"It's alright," I said, standing up as well, that same feeling of despair rolling around inside me. "The point of this is to get to know people from other places, right?"

She smiled.

* * *

_I held a poll on dA and this got the most votes. I posted the first half of this chapter ages ago in **Cotinuus, **so don't be alarmed if you've read it before. This isn't going to be nearly as long as TW, so... I guess. I don't know. Anyway, disclaimer, Danny Phantom is not mine, and it never will be. Hooray for the first chapter?  
_


	2. Two

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Two-  
_

* * *

Just how many people are _in_ this school, anyway?

My eyes darted back and forth, taking in all the unfamiliar sights. Over the weekend, while asleep, my mind began sorting out all of the things that Master had shoved in there using his powers to make life as a human easier for me.

In my entire existence of fourteen years, I had _never_ seen so many people my age in one place. Normally when I came across potential friends in the Ghost Zone, I would always age and they wouldn't, because most of the time they were the spirits of dead children and I'm…

I'm different.

"Okay… Okay… here we go," the assistant principal, Mr. Lancer said, pulling something out of a filing cabinet. Jazz stood absently at the man's desk, leaning on it and tapping her foot idly. I was sitting in a chair next to her, staring out the doorway and into the busy halls of Casper High.

_So many people!_ I thought. I grinned, my normal fluorescent green eyes flashing momentarily through my disguise.

"So, these are his classes," Mr. Lancer was saying to Jazz, handing over a sheet of white paper. "His guide for the week is a student named Tucker Foley, who should be down right after the first bell rings."

"Thank you," Jazz said, sitting down next to me. She handed me the paper.

"Here you go," she said. "These are your classes. Unfortunately, Casper High is a little behind in its ways, so instead of switching the order everyday of the classes like _normal_ high schools, you'll have the same classes the same periods _every single day._"

"Hmm," I said, not quite grasping what she meant. Words were spit out at me – _Drawing & Painting I, Structure in Language Arts, Study Hall, American History…_

"So… I just go to these rooms?" I asked, turning it slightly and studying it closely. Jazz gave me an inquisitive look.

"…Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "They'll help you. Tucker should help you, too."

"This… Drawing and Painting… is it an art class?" I asked. How did I end up in that?

"Well, the Preferences sheet we sent to you for classes said that you liked to draw," Jazz said. "So… you're in one of the introductory art classes."

Oh, I remember now. I always draw out maps and charts and ghosts to be filed away for Master… but I've never used my art conventionally before. Now that I think about it, I've never really drawn _or_ painted much of _anything_ before that could be considered 'art.'

This was going to be fun.

"Ahh, Mr. Foley," Mr. Lancer said, pulling me out of my trance. A dark-skinned boy who looked no older than myself had walked into the office, wearing large classes and had a spark in his eyes that I immediately admired.

"Mr. Foley, this is Danny," Mr. Lancer said, gesturing to me. "He's our exchange student from the east coast – he's staying with Jasmine and her family for the next three months."

"Danny, this is Tucker Foley – a fellow Freshman, and your guide for the week."

"Wow – three months?" Tucker said, ignoring the introduction and grinning at me. He extended his hand to me. "I'm so sorry that you have to be here for that long. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," I replied after a moment, realizing he wanted me to shake his hand. After the brief introduction, Mr. Lancer went over a few things that I didn't really pay attention to. My eyes instead were looking around the office, my brain slowly churning out names and definitions of the various things.

_How could a world so drastically different exist?_

Tucker smiled and moved his backpack on his shoulders, staring out the doorway into the hallway. He then turned and looked at me.

"Okay, Mr. Foley, Danny, you're all set," Mr. Lancer said suddenly, breaking me away from my thoughts. Jazz smiled at us.

"So, you're Tucker?" she asked awkwardly, turning to him. Tucker extended his hand easily and shook her petite one.

"The one and only," he said, shaking her hand. He turned to me. "So, how about a tour? I was told what to do last week when I was chosen to be your guide." I grinned up at him and stood up, shifting my own bag onto my shoulders.

"Okay, sounds good to me…"

* * *

I've never been in love. I've never really had romantic feelings for anyone before. I've never felt that special connection, that bond that brings two people together for eternity. Sure, I was familiar with it, for love wasn't some foreign concept to the deceased. A lot of the time, ghosts who would be lingering for years alone would finally meet up with their mate, and disappear past the Ghost Zone, on to the afterlife, because they were so in love.

I'm not sure if this feeling could be called "love", but there was definitely some attraction I felt to her.

After dragging me around to every dark corner of the school, Tucker had shown me my locker, a small, rectangular box made out of thin metals protruding from the walls. What a bleak existence.

His locker was next to mine, naturally, so he could help me through the days. He was nice and I liked him; we seemed to be comfortable around each other rather quickly, like we were meant to be friends. Or something.

But when that bell rang, and students began filing out of their classrooms, I saw her.

She was our age, obviously a Freshman like us. She doesn't dressed flashy like the other girls were, and she wasn't trying to be the center of attention, nor was she trying to get my attention like all people – girls and guys alike – had been doing for most of the day.

Her short black hair swayed around her chin as she opened her locker and tossed her books in, just a few lockers down from mine. And I couldn't take my eyes off her. My human heart sped up, and I wondered if I was getting sick (I've never been sick!), or something else was happening.

My eyes stayed on her the entire time, and I watched her change her books and close the locker door, dodging out of the way of a group of people and walking off, alone.

I want to get to know her.

"Who's that?" I asked my escort, motioning to the retreating dark-haired girl. Tucker glanced where I was looking.

"Her? That's Sam Manson," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "She's nice, but she's a loner and a real recluse. We were friends when we were really little kids, but when we got to middle school we never really talked to each other anymore. It's sad, really, because she was really fun then." I just watched her walk off.

I found her captivating. Physically, by the way she simultaneously blended in and stood out, and intellectually; as a being who had lived his entire life around the Ghost of Time, someone's mind became the most interesting thing to me, the thing that would ultimately judge someone's character.

"I want to meet her," I said, more to myself than to Tucker. Something about her… she just seemed like someone I _should_ know.

_I'm supposed to know_.

I stopped. I turned to Tucker.

"Did you just say something?" I asked him cautiously. Somehow, this idea that I was "supposed" to know this girl had been put into my head, so someone must have said something about it… right?

"Me? No," he said, reaching into his locker. "Why? Something wrong?"

"No…" I said, still looking at the double doors at the end of the hallway where she had passed through. A strange sensation was running through me, as if I already knew her. I wanted to know her, and yet I felt like I already knew everything about her. Her favorite song, her parent's names, the location of her room in her home, the way she tasted when we kissed…

_Wait, what?_

I blinked, shaking my head vigorously.

"Three days," I muttered to myself as I followed Tucker to the last period of the day. "Three days, and I'm already losing my mind."

* * *

"You know what? Screw Disneyworld, I say," Tucker was saying, leaning back in the blue-and-black computer chair, "_this_ is the happiest place on earth."

He had taken me to what appeared to be some kind of café – at least, that's what the sign had said. However, when we entered, the large room was lined with thin, sleek, expensive-looking machinery, many of them with young people diligently working at them. Some of them were working on school work, but most – like Tucker – were goofing off in general on these machines.

Computers.

"Okay, now you _have_ to see this website," he said, quickly closing the image on the screen and opening another one. I just sat blankly staring at the screen.

I've never used a computer.

Granted, technology was never Master's thing, nor mine. He was a traditional sort of being – technology worries were left to the maniacs like Technus, or even Skulker and his never-ending quest to gain more power from his tiny natural form. Many times, when I'd run into Skulker somewhere in the Ghost Zone, he would always use me as target practice for his new innovations.

The knowledge of life amongst the living had been infused into my brain, but there seemed to be some lacking information in the technology department.

"It's called _Wikipedia,_" Tucker continued, clicking away on the site. "It's an encyclopedia that anyone can edit. Granted, I guess that means that some of the information can be untrustworthy, but you can find _anything_ on here!" I sat in the chair beside him, my eyes trailing over the words on the screen.

"That's pretty cool," I said, genuinely interested. Anything?

"I can't believe you don't have a computer," Tucker said again, reacting as if I had told him I was an exchange student from the bottom of the Indian Ocean.

"Well, we just don't really need one," I admitted. At least it was truthful.

"But how could you _not need one_?" he asked, turning to me, his green eyes wide with confusion. I laughed at his reaction.

"I don't know, I guess it was just never that important," I said, trying to find ways to justify my technology deficiency. Tucker spun around in his chair a couple times before noticing someone in the far corner of the room.

"Hey, I think that's Jazz," he said, pointing. I looked to where he was pointing and sure enough, my hostess, Jazz, was diligently typing away at a computer, a book open in her lap. Tucker got up and scooted across the room over to her, peering over her shoulder and reading what she was typing.

"Hmm, yes, interesting," he said in a mock deep-voice, his hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Jazz glanced up in surprise, and frowned angrily when she saw who it was.

"Creepy Freshman!" she cried, and I laughed as I walked over to them. Tucker began laughing too, and the two of us stood beside her, doubling over. I had to use Tucker's shoulder to steady myself from all the laughing we were doing.

I suddenly became aware of my chest heaving with all my laughing, my heart racing with the sudden exertion that came with such raucous laughter. I was panting by the time we had both calmed down. Laughing had never felt this painful when I was still all ghost.

Then again, it never felt this good, either.

"I'm writing my college essay," she said, turning around to face us. "Most of the colleges I want to go to require a personal essay."

"Interesting," Tucker said, leaning on the table. "I thought you were a Junior."

"I am," she replied, moving her books so I could sit on the table on her other side. "I just want to make sure that the essay I hand in is the best one that I could possibly write."

"What's it about?" I asked, leaning forwards. I knew a little bit about the school system (a little bit more from yesterday), but not enough to really understand it fully yet. But I _did_ know that a 'personal essay' is normally about something that you experienced in your life.

"It's… it's something very important to me," Jazz said slowly, taking her hands off the keyboard for a moment. She breathed deeply and stretched her hands. "It's something that no one really knows… about my past."

"Oh?" I asked, curious. Jazz looked at us, then back at her computer.

"It's really private," she admitted, saving the document.

"But strangers are going to read this," Tucker said incredulously.

"My Lit class is going to, too, and I'd rather have them read it before two people I barely know," Jazz replied.

She did have a point. She had met Tucker for the first time on Monday, yesterday, the same day I had. And she just met _me_ four days ago. Who could blame her?

"Besides, the version that I have here will most likely be revised about a thousand times over, anyway," she said, grinning. "One thing that you have to learn about me _now_ is that I'm a total perfectionist." And with that, she promptly turned the machine off and picked up her books in one arm, dangling her car keys from the other hand. "Well, I think you've had enough of Tucker's bad influence for one day," Jazz said with a suddenly brightened disposition. Tucker frowned; I laughed.

"So, you're leaving me? On your first _day?_" Tucker said in a mock-dramatic voice. My chest felt like it was on _fire_ but I still laughed, regardless.

"I suppose so," I said, grinning as I followed Jazz out of the café and to her car.

"You supposed right," she answered, hopping into her car. "C'mon, it's time we Fenton-ized you more, you Yankee."

I could honestly say I had _no_ idea what she meant by that, but I smiled all the same.

* * *

_Wow, thanks for all the encouragement, everyone! I was shocked when I opened my email and saw 37 messages all from Granted, I became less excited when I saw that some of them were for different stories, but it was still very encouraging. Since I already have the next chapter typed, I decided to post it. Now, unlike TW, I'm not already 7 chapters ahead; I'm working on Chapter 3 as we speak. I'm still developing the story, and I'm trying to make it at least vaguely interesting, heh. I'm trying to mold like 3 different subplots into one plot, give me a break, here. Anyway, this chapter's pretty boring, but necessary, I guess. But the next chapter gets more interesting! I hope._


	3. Three

**Empyreal  
****_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Three-_

* * *

The first time it happened, I thought I was imagining things. Sometimes, when you're just so relaxed into something, you forget what you're doing and where you are and lapse into old habits that should remain hidden.

In the Ghost Zone, I, like many other ghosts, had powers. Powers that were generated by the ectoplasm that made up my body. I had been spending a lot of my existence trying to perfect them constantly.

And I used them.

It was very simple; I was getting frustrated at a book I had to read for school, and in my anger I threw it up – and zapped it. My hand felt oddly warm and I could see the smoky entrails of the ectoblast trickling from my palm. But it took me by complete surprise.

"What the—" I carefully got out of my bed and treaded to the window, opening it as silently as I could. It was an old window that hadn't had much use in a very long time.

Standing at the window, I stretched my hand out, palm forward, and concentrated. I thought of all the times I casually used my powers in the past, and how I just flicked my hand forwards and out a beam of energy came. I never really thought about what I was doing when I was doing it; I just _did_ it.

And then, I did it again. A powerful ectoblast shot into the night sky, briefly lighting up the world around it. I glanced down at my hand, completely overwhelmed with excitement. What did this mean? I still had all my ghostly abilities?

I darted over to the dresser in the room and stood in front of it, watching the mirror. I took a deep breath, (felt momentarily dizzy), and closed my eyes.

I could feel the tingling in my fingertips and my toes. I could feel that familiar energy zooming throughout my body. It was trapped inside this human body, but it was very much _there_.

And as suddenly as I felt it, it overtook my entire body; I could feel it building and almost radiating out of my hands. I concentrated as hard as I could, just like I was taught how to focus my powers—

I opened my eyes, and nearly fell over in surprise.

I saw… myself. The entire room was now illuminated because I was emanating light. I yelped in surprise and happiness as I stared into the mirror, seeing the reflection I was used to.

My white hair was back; my green eyes. My old clothes were back, the ones I always wore when I was around my various teachers. I could feel all the ghostly energy rushing around inside me, building to almost insurmountable levels. I put my hand on my face, unable to control my excitement.

_I was me again!!_ I can still use my powers. I can still see the way I've seen myself for my entire existence. It was exhilarating and remorseful at the same damned time.

"I… I don't believe it," I murmured. "I'm… a ghost again."

Just as I was admiring my old form, I heard it. It was faint, but it was there.

It sounded like… _running._

Against my better judgment, I zoomed to the window, then realizing I had to make myself invisible. I'm pretty sure whoever was running outside would see a glowing stranger in the Fenton household.

A person was running towards the building, the large "FentonWorks" sign the only light source aside from the street lights along the street. The person stopped at the steps, panting heavily.

It was Tucker!

I narrowed my eyes. I could feel it now. He was being followed.

With a panicked expression on his face, he bounded up the front steps and pounded on the door, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

"Please!" he cried. "Please – help me!"

I don't know what I was thinking; all I knew was something malevolent was following him, and damned if the person who was the most important to making sure I blended in was going to die at the hands of some rogue ghost.

I leapt out of the window, making myself visible, and landed near to him in mid-air.

"Stay here," I said, although Tucker was just staring with his mouth hanging open anyway. I propelled myself through the air and stopped when I felt the ghost in front of me.

The thing made itself visible, and I saw what was scaring the poor boy half to death; he was being followed by a shape-shifter. I could tell immediately because I was face-to-face with the Grim Reaper.

And _everyone_ knows that there's no such thing as the Grim Reaper.

"Who're you?" the ghost asked, shifting back to its amorphous self. "A ghost? What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" I said back, curious. I hadn't heard that this place was haunted…

"Doesn't matter, punk, now does it?" the blob said, making me want to laugh. Obviously he either didn't see the crest I adorned, or he simply didn't know what it meant.

If he did, he was sure putting up a brave front, since no one _ever_ messed with an Apprentice to the Ancients.

I grinned and stretched my arms.

"I'm going to enjoy this," I murmured, feeling that quirky rush of power I always felt just before a fight. "I'm going to enjoy this_ a__ lot._"

* * *

I had forgotten all about Tucker when I was done fighting the ghost. I turned around to head back to the house – when I saw him, sitting on the steps, a shocked expression on his face.

"You… you just _saved_ me," he murmured. "I didn't know that there were ghosts who liked humans." I had just saved him, hadn't I?

I was feeling rather smug.

"Well… you were asking for help, so I answered," I replied. I landed on the ground near to him, but he backed up the steps, a look of shock and fear on his face.

"W-who are you?" Tucker asked. "I… I don't know who you are, but I've seen your face before, I think."

Damn.

"Tell me, do ghosts normally plague this town?" I asked, ignoring his question. Tucker shrugged.

"I dunno, I guess so. Ghost sightings are really common around here – then again, it's a known fact that the founder of this town was a regular ghost enthusiast, so it comes with the territory, I think." Tucker seemed to be easing up, and he relaxed a bit. A light rain had started to fall, and it had to be around midnight by now.

"Really?" I asked, crossing my arms. I had to admit; I felt a lot more comfortable being back in my ghost form. Mainly because I knew I didn't have to pretend to fit in with humans. "So, you see ghosts often?"

"Well, the Fentons… they have this portal thing that goes into the Ghost Zone… and they sometimes escape from there," Tucker explained, giving me a look I couldn't identify.

Hmm. _Interesting._

_"It's imperative that you stay with the Fentons."_

"And… why are you so curious, anyway? Didn't you come through from the Ghost Zone?"

The rain had started to pick up. I could see it bouncing off the ground faster than before. That was when I noticed Tucker shiver. He was wearing a light t-shirt and pants out in what was obviously very cold weather.

"Come on," I said, walking over to him. He tensed up again, but I just grabbed his arm.

"Wh-what are you—"

"Just stay quiet." I made myself intangible and pulled him into the house with me, zooming us up into my room. There I dropped him onto the carpet where he scrambled up quickly and backed against my nightstand, knocking it back a good foot. I brushed myself off lightly and glanced down at him.

"It was too cold out there for you," I explained, grinning. Tucker stood up slowly.

"Did you just—are we in the Fenton house?"

"Well, yes, I just thought—" I started, leaning against the bureau, when I felt it. I felt all of that energy suddenly rush back into every crevice it had crawled from, and suddenly the light in the room died and I could feel and sense and everything my human body felt came rushing back.

Tucker gasped and jumped a little, staring at my now human form. I frowned and stared at the mirror – yep, human again.

"Damn it – how did I _do _that?" I murmured. Tucker was silent as I stared at the mirror. How in blazes did I _change_ like that? How did I call forth my powers? How?!

"D-_Danny_?" Tucker said suddenly. I turned around to face him. "You- you're- a ghost?"

"Would you believe me," I started slowly, trying to ease my way into it, "if I told you that I was a ghost with a human half?"

That was the last word I got out before he collapsed on the floor.

* * *

_I tried really hard to post this on 7-7-07, but my brother let me have the computer six minutes before midnight, and my computer just couldn't boot up fast enough. Anyway, the next update probably won't be for awhile; I have no idea why I've updated three times this week. Guess there's really no point not to, right? I'm starting this habit of updating on special dates. The premiere was July 1st, aka a year since I got my __License__; chapter two was Independence Day, and chapter three was supposed to be 7-7-07 but... that failed._


	4. Four

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Four-  
_

* * *

I'll be the first to admit, I know nothing about how the body works. Considering I've never _had_ one before, I honestly had no idea what to do when Tucker collapsed. I just kind of… sat there next to him, wondering what I was going to do if he didn't wake up soon. He was still _alive,_ but if he didn't wake up in the next few hours, how was I going to explain him _being_ here? 

Thankfully, just as I was contemplating a plausible story, I heard a groan and felt the floor next to me move. I glanced at him, and watched as his eyes fluttered open and he looked around inquisitively.

"Where…" he muttered, and then noticed me. At first he still looked confused, but then he immediately jumped up and moved backwards, falling over a chair and smacking his head against my bureau.

"Ooh…" I said, wincing. He stood back up, holding the back of his head, tears in his eyes from the hit.

"O-okay… what the _hell_ is going on?!" he demanded. I walked over to him (or tried to, anyway, he kept getting away) and finally managed to sit him down in the chair that had tripped him earlier.

I stood behind him in the chair, facing the mirror. I firmly held the wooden back of the chair, and started creating the story.

I had to tell _someone_ the truth.

"Tucker," I started, "I'm… I'm a ghost." Tucker remained silent, although I could see he was physically shaking. I _really_ gave this kid a scare, didn't I?

"I'm not the kind of ghost you're thinking of, though. I'm a ghost who never actually _lived._ I was born as a creature of the Ghost Zone, and I've been there for fourteen years. I was raised by a committee of ancient spirits, although one of those ghosts kind of… parented me, I suppose," I said, trying to think of my situation. In the mirror, Tucker had gone from terrified to slightly confused. He was still holding his head, but he looked as if he were actually paying attention.

"Anyway, I was given the chance to live amongst humans. According to Master – he's the ghost who parented me – all ghosts who had not been humans get this chance, and now it was my turn. So… I'm living, for three months, under the guise of 'Danny' in the Fenton household." After my story, there was silence as Tucker seemed to process the information. He turned around in his chair slowly, checking his hand for blood, I guess, to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

Whatever his reaction was, I'd still be completely shocked. I've never told this story to a _human_ before; most ghosts found it completely rational and normal.

A _human_, however… Who knows.

"So… you're a… _ghost_… but not like a dead-person kind of ghost?" Tucker asked in a rather small voice. I nodded.

"Yes."

"So, what's your _real_ name?"

"They call me 'Phantom'."

"Oh." Tucker remained silent, turning back around in the chair and standing up. He then turned to face me, lowering his hand from the back of his head.

"You do know that the Fentons are ghost _hunters,_ right?" Tucker said, easing up a bit. Now that I had told him, the room suddenly felt less tense. And Tucker seemed almost… fine with the whole situation.

"You… you're not… freaked out or anything?" I asked. Tucker laughed and nodded.

"Oh, I was scared shitless for awhile," he said. He sighed. "But, after you told me the truth… it felt… right, somehow. I don't know, but I felt much more at ease. Like—"

"—This is the way it's supposed to be?"

"Yeah," Tucker agreed, giving me a bizarre look. "How'd you know—?"

"I've been getting that feeling often this week," I explained, smiling. It felt good to smile. I had never smiled much in the Zone, but I guess that's because it never felt so good.

Now that Tucker knew, it almost felt like he was on my side.

"Besides, what with all the ghosts we see around here, I'm not _that_ shocked, I guess," Tucker said, blushing a little. "I came here looking for the Fentons to use some gadget to save me – not a ghost to save me."

"Well, I—"

Wait.

Did he say the Fentons were _ghost hunters?_

"Wait, what about the Fentons?" I asked, concern growing in my voice. Suddenly, all the good feeling and warmth rushed out of my body and it was replaced with a stinging, aching sensation in my stomach.

Ah. _Dread._

"They're the worlds leading ghost experts and hunters," Tucker explained. He rubbed the back of his head again, and then examined the bureau he had smacked against. "I thought Jazz would have mentioned that to you."

"No, she… conveniently forgot that," I muttered. If they saw me in my true form, naturally they'd go after me. And if they were the 'ghost experts' of this world, then if they saw the seal of my Master on my clothing, they would certainly recognize that I was powerful. But what if they were just as powerful? He did say the "world's leading"…

Unless…

"You said there were ghosts in this town, right?" I said, turning to the boy. He stood up straight and nodded.

"Yeah, a bunch. The Fentons opened some kind of door to the Ghost Zone and now they come through all the time. They have trouble keeping track of all of them, though, and they only catch about half as many as come through."

Perfect.

"What if… what if I helped them?" I asked. "What if I used my ghostly abilities to help them round up all those ghosts? I mean, I bet I know a bunch of them, anyway. That way they won't hunt me." It was a good plan. Tucker frowned.

"I don't know… they might not believe that a ghost could actually _save_ people." I laughed.

"I'm not doing it to _save_ people, I'm doing it to keep me away from their weapons." Tucker continued to frown and walked towards the window, the rain having let up. Instead, the pavement glinted under the fluorescent lamps outside.

"Well… maybe if you could protect people in the _meantime_ of trying to get on their good side… they won't hunt you. I mean, once you tell them you're living under their roof—"

"Ohhhhh no no no," I said, panicking slightly and covering up his mouth. I had moved so quickly across the room I probably scared him to death. "No, we are _not _telling them. You barely recognized me as Phantom, so I doubt they will. Danny and Phantom are two separate people, got that? I can't blow my cover here."

"Why?" Tucker asked, shoving my hand away. Now that I had shown myself to be in a weakened position, he felt stronger. "You're leaving in three months anyway, right?"

"Well… I-I don't know," I stammered. "I mean, I just have this feeling… that I shouldn't leave before the three months are up. I have to stay here. In this house."

"Why?" Tucker demanded. I stared back at him, lost for words. Honestly, I didn't know why. I just had this very strong feeling that it was _necessary_ to be here. That something was going to happen. And I needed to be here for it.

Master knows _everything._ Clearly, I was put here for a reason. He arranged for me to live with _this _family, in _this_ town, for a specific reason. I was feeling too many bizarre feelings, too many familiarities for this to all be coincidental.

_I'm here for a reason,_ I wanted to say. What that reason is… I have no idea. But the more I tried to vocalize what I meant, the greater the feeling of dread became inside me. It was physically _hurting _me.

And every time I thought of why I was here… it hurt more. Clearly, for whatever reason I was here, it was _not_ a good one.

Tucker just sighed.

"Look, it doesn't matter," he said softly. He smiled. "I'm probably going to wake up tomorrow and think this is all a dream. But… I don't know. I met you, what, four, five days ago? This is nuts, it's really nuts."

"Look, Tucker—" I started, but as soon as I spoke, the grandfather clock that was in the room downstairs began chiming.

And it only chimed once.

"Oh, crap, is it one o'clock?" Tucker asked, a pained expression on his face. "I gotta get home. I was supposed to be home at eleven. Oh, my parents are going to _kill_ me. I hope they fell asleep or something!" he said, looking for an escape route.

Then, against everything I knew about my powers, I sighed.

"Look," I said. "If you promise to keep this a _secret_ – which you _will_ – and you continue to help me… I can get you home in thirty seconds."

"I live almost on the other side of town," Tucker said, doubt edging his voice. "It's at least a ten minute drive, maybe a thirty minute walk."

"Yes, but I'm a ghost," I said. "I can go through things and fly at very high speeds with almost no wind resistance." Tucker looked at me, then the window, then back at me again. He sighed, and walked over to me.

"Okay," he said. "I'll… I'll help you. And keep this hidden."

"From everyone?" I asked, trying to figure out how to call upon my powers. This time it was easier, and the next thing I knew, I was my old self again.

"From everyone."

* * *

"Miss Manson? Miss _Manson!_" the teacher, a scrawny old woman who went by the name of Miss Bercury, said. The girl – Samantha? Sam? I think it was Sam – anyway, she glanced up, blushing. Miss Bercury sighed.

"Miss Manson, even though you have the highest average of the entire class, would you care to pay attention?" Sam blushed even more, her pale complexion turning crimson.

Some people in the class sniggered, and I did all I could not to shoot them literal death glares. How dare they make fun of such an intuitive, brilliant person?

Then again, I was a total idiot compared to everyone else. I mean, I'm not _stupid_, but when it comes to human history… I've never learned _any _of it.

I frowned, partly because of my own idiocy, partly because of the glances people were still shooting her. Sam was very quiet in History, but in other classes like English and Art, she was so… _outspoken._ She went on and on yesterday about the consonance and assonance and whatnot of a poem called "The Bells" by someone named Edgar Allen Poe. I thought the reason "bells" was repeated a zillion times was because the poet got lazy, but she began talking of all this beautiful imagery and word and language… It was _wonderful_. Although I had no idea what the _hell_ she was talking about, I still couldn't help but listen.

Her History persona certainly didn't reflect the way she actually was, from what I've gathered. She's a bit of a loner, but she's very passionate in what she believes in and doesn't let anyone tell her she's wrong – even if she is. (She hasn't been yet.)

I sighed. For some unfathomable reason, she absolutely _fascinated_ me. Then again, most humans did. How could humans and ghosts act so… differently? Most of the time, ghosts were _dead humans._ So, why did they change suddenly? Why is the world of the living such a contrast to the world of the dead?

"Daniel?" Miss Bercury said to me, raising her eyebrows. I winced and sat up straight, gulping. Time for another piece of history that I don't know.

"Yes, ma'am?" I asked. Giggles ensued. I frowned. Proper manners around your elders was beaten into me since I was very small. I guess it comes with being raised by ancient ghosts… but I digress.

"Since no one else can answer this question, maybe someone who's from one of the thirteen colonies can answer," she said, turning a page in her teacher book. From what I've learned, I'm supposedly from the east coast, a city called 'Boston'. And unfortunately for me, this 'Boston' was very important in American history.

"Who led the Boston Tea Party in 1773?" she asked, staring me down. I gulped again.

I thought about it. I honestly had no idea. I didn't even know what it _was._ All I knew of the Revolution was from the few ghosts from that era that were still hanging around the Ghost Zone. There was a girl who died during the Revolution that told me a lot about it though… I wonder what happened to her… Hm…

Nope, can't remember anything.

"Sons of Liberty," a soft voice said behind me. I looked up at Miss Bercury; she hadn't heard the voice.

"T-The Sons of Liberty!" I answered, shaking. I again felt that familiar feeling in my stomach. Ugh, it was sickening.

Miss Bercury stood up straight and wrote it on the board.

"Yes, Daniel. Did you hear that everyone? At least _someone_ knows his history. Now, on the night of December 16, 1773…" I glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice. Was it in my head? Was it invisible?

My eyes fell on her. The next row over, two seats back. She was doodling in an open notebook, the page blank. She wasn't even _looking_ at her notes. She glanced up as I looked at her, and for a moment our eyes locked. Her eyes took me by surprise; they were a pinkish-violet color, and very bright. They seemed out of place against her pale skin, dark hair and dark clothes. It didn't help that they were surrounded by dark makeup around her eyes.

I was speechless momentarily. I just gaped at her like an idiot, but she didn't turn away. I soon deducted that she was the one who had whispered the answer.

'Thank you,' I mouthed, finally regaining my senses. Why did she leave me so breathless?

She suddenly smiled (and became about ten times more beautiful).

"You're welcome," she whispered, and, with another glance at me, went back to doodling in her notebook.

After that horrible class ended, I found myself searching for her face in the hallways. I was bustling by people, sometimes using my powers momentarily to pass through them quicker, and without thinking about it, I realized I was searching for a round, pale face framed by silky black hair _everywhere._ The only times during the day I ever saw her was when we were both at our locker (before homeroom), and three classes out of seven; American History, English Language Arts, and Drawing and Painting.

Every time I saw her, my chest heaved and my face grew very hot. It felt like my heart was beating faster than it normally was. It was practically jumping up my throat, and a couple times I placed my hand on my warm skin to make sure it wasn't leaping out of my chest.

At the same time, I felt like I was on the look-out for more ghosts. After drilling Tucker for information, I found out that this portal to the Zone had been open for years, but it had been kept quiet until just a few months earlier. Whenever someone had a ghost-related issue, they were to contact the Fentons at any and all hours of the day.

Which is what Trucker had been trying to do the night I saved him.

He also told me that, even if I hunted these idiots alongside the Fentons, they might still try to catch me, and I was _not_—

"Y'know, you're going to be late," Tucker suddenly said behind me. I jumped probably about a foot in the air and spun around, slamming my locker closed as I did.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" I cried, panting. My chest felt like it was on fire. Being surprised as a human _hurt_. Tucker grinned.

"You were just standing there at your locker," he said, clapping his hand onto my shoulder. I glanced around and noticed the hallway was empty. I leaned against my locker, sighing.

"Well, maybe we should—"

"Relax, Phantom," he said, motioning to the front doors. "School's over." I blinked.

What?

"Your last class is History, isn't it?" he asked me. "I was just kidding about being late." I bent down and lifted my book bag, slinging it over one shoulder. (It hurt, but everyone else did it, and I still had to blend in as much as possible.)

"Haha, very funny," I said, grinning. Even after terrifying Tucker within an inch of his life, he still felt like an old friend. I found myself to be extremely at ease around him, and he with me as well. When we were around others he called me by my human name, but he insisted upon my real name when there was no one around.

"So, Phantom…" Tucker started, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I noticed today during English that you seemed to be staring at someone."

Immediately, my cheeks grew hot again.

"…Someone named, oh, I don't know… _Sam Manson?_"

"Shut up!" I cried, covering his mouth with my hand. I looked around nervously, it there were no other humans around. I uncovered his mouth – but there was a smug grin plastered on his face instead.

"Tell me, do ghosts fall in love?" Tucker asked. I shrugged.

"Not my kind," I said, unable to look at him. "Human ghosts can… ghosts like me – we don't have those kinds of emotions."

"Oh, but you do now, eh?" Tucker said, jabbing me with his elbow. I scoffed and pushed him away a bit harder than I originally meant.

"If you don't love, then do you have friends?" Tucker asked, more serious this time. We had just arrived at Jazz's black car, and she was nowhere to be seen. I stopped to think about it.

In my entire 'life', I'd never really had real friends. I referred to them as friends, but I never had that special bond with someone that humans do. I've met people my age and talked to them over the years, but normally they were only there for a couple days; normally nomadic human ghosts roaming through the Zone. I mean, when I was younger Master found a playmate for me – a little ghost-dog whom he called 'Cujo'. But never a real friend before…

"I… guess not," I said slowly.

"What?" Jazz asked, unlocking the car. Again, I was completely surprised by her appearance; she literally popped out of nowhere.

"Uh, nothing," I said, sighing in relief that she hadn't heard us. Tucker suddenly punched my lower back.

"Ow, what the—Oh," I said. I turned to Jazz and smiled. "Jazz… do you think we could give Tucker a lift?" Jazz glanced at me, and then at Tucker, who was standing behind me.

"Pleeeeeeeeease?" Tucker begged in a mock-high voice. "I promise to be good." Jazz just stared at us both, and then laughed.

"I guess so. Get in," she said, starting up the car. We threw our bags into the back of her car, Tucker climbing into the back, myself the front. Jazz pulled out of the high school and started zooming down side streets.

"So Danny, just so you know, we're gonna be alone starting tonight," Jazz said after a time. I glanced at her.

"Wait, why?" Jazz sighed.

"My parents are flying out to Wisconsin until Sunday, which means four days of just us in that whacked out house."

"What on _earth_ is in _Wisconsin?_" I asked. I was slightly familiar with the name; I knew it was one of the contiguous states, and that it was very… well… not really a vacation spot.

"Cheese ghosts?" Tucker asked, grinning. Jazz frowned.

"Har har. Someone who lives out there is an old friend of theirs and they're going there to see him." I sat back and looked out the window. "They haven't seen him in roughly twenty years or so, but thank God we're not going."

"They're just going out of the blue?" Tucker inquired.

"No, they were invited. They went to college with this guy and he's holding a class reunion in his _mansion._"

"Mansion? Just who _is_ this guy?" Tucker asked, shocked. We had come to a stop light. Jazz turned around to look at us.

"Either of you ever hear of Vlad Masters?"

"Wait, Vlad Masters? _The_ Vlad Masters?" Tucker said, his jaw dropping. "No way! He's a famous business tycoon. Your parents are friends with _him_?"

"Oh yeah," Jazz said grumpily. I continued to stare out the window, but the name _Vlad Masters_ struck a cord.

I know I've heard that name somewhere before. I _know_ I have. I can't remember where, or why, but I know that at some point since I've been in existence, I have heard the name 'Vlad Masters' mentioned a few times.

Or, at least, a name eerily similar…

* * *

_Okay, so, this is a really sucky place to end. But the chapter was getting so painfully long I had to cut it somewhere. I actually only have a little of chapter 5 written, and I want this story to have long chapters because nobody likes short ones. So the next update might not be for awhile... but if you know me, awhile is like, a week. Two weeks without an update is a big thing for me. XD Anyway, more fun plot development, whoop whoop. Thanks for all the reviews!_


	5. Five

**Empyreal  
****_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Five-_

* * *

"So, anyway, that means we'll have some quiet for a change," Jazz said as she pulled onto the side of the road. We had reached a modest sized house made of light blue shingles with a slanted roof. "Alright, Foley, time to discharge."

"Thanks, Jazz," Tucker said, climbing out of the car. He saluted to me, waved to Jazz, and ran inside his house.

Jazz turned the wheel and whizzed down complicated sidestreets, the warm air wafting into the car through the open windows.

For some reason, I had this deep-rooted, uneasy feeling about this 'Vlad Masters'. And I wanted to get more information on him.

"So… do you know anything about this Vlad Masters?" I asked casually as she pulled in behind the large brick building. Jazz shrugged and hopped out of the car.

"Eh, I've seen some _very_ old pictures of him – but aside from that, I don't know really anything about him." Jazz slammed her car door and headed into the house through the kitchen door, dropping her keys on the counter. A note had been left, taped to the counter, and Jazz grabbed it and taped it to the refrigerator.

I glanced around the kitchen, the sight of it becoming more familiar every time I stepped into it.

Jazz was rooting around in a pile of what appeared to be some old papers that was near a wooden box that held all sorts of bread products. (Break box?)

"Aha, here it is," she said triumphantly, holding up a small picture frame. She handed it off to me and started rearranging the papers.

It was a photo of three people, who looked a little bit older than Jazz. The edges of the photo were yellowed with age, and the bottom right corner was torn. I squinted at the photo. The two people to the left looked familiar…

"That's my parents with him," Jazz said, glancing down at the photo with me. "See? There's – there's my mom and dad, and there he is. Vlad Masters. Before he became a huge business tycoon, that is."

"Oh," I murmured. I turned the frame slightly. That man… ugh. He looked… very faintly familiar. Like I'd seen him maybe once before, but it was a very quick glance…

"Yeah, that's him," Jazz said as she sat down. She had a mug before her. "I can't believe that man used to study with them. I mean, he's a huge, successful _business_ man. Who would've known that someone that powerful used to study _ghosts._" At the word 'ghosts', I glanced up.

"He… they studied ghosts?" I asked slowly. Jazz nodded.

"Yeah… I guess… I guess now is as good a time as ever to tell you, then," she said, leaning back in her chair. "My parents have studied ghosts for an incredibly long time. I know my mom started getting interested in them some time in high school, and my dad believed he lived in a haunted house for years. So the three of them ended up in one of the only universities that had paranormal studies, and bam – my parents study ghosts for a living." I just watched her drink dark, steaming liquid from the mug.

"And, this portal that I've heard about…?" I asked. Jazz suddenly choked on her drink and put the mug down, coughing into a napkin.

"Oh – that," she began, clearing her throat and sitting up straight. The air in the room suddenly felt tense.

There was something about that portal… that I wasn't supposed to know.

"I guess, because you're living here… you can know," Jazz said, sighing. "They built that thing _years_ ago," she continued. "I couldn't have been older than three, maybe four when they finally perfected it. It took them another year to get it online – and the next thing we knew, we had a working door into the Ghost Zone."

"Why did your parents build it?" I asked. Again, the air in the room tensed, and this time it felt like there was a hint of sadness to it. Jazz bit her lower lip and looked down at her mug.

"They… they were trying to find – ghosts," she said, finishing her sentence very quickly. I frowned. Obviously, she tacked 'ghosts' in there as a last-minute replacement to what they were _really_ looking for.

"Oh, I see," I said. Jazz gave me a half-hearted smile.

"That's… that's all I can really tell you, Danny. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," I said, disappointed. Apparently, the Fentons had been searching for _something, _but what? And why couldn't I know? Damnit.

We sat in a silence for a time, Jazz tapping her fingers on the mug, myself sitting down in the chair, staring off into the distance. There were a lot of things I wanted to figure out that were tumbling around in my mind.

What were the feelings I had towards Sam? Why were the Fentons so secretive with what they did with a portal to the _Ghost Zone?_ Why do my powers still work, and why am I here? And, most importantly, who the _hell_ is Vlad Masters _and why is he so familiar to me?!_

"Danny? You alright?" Jazz asked. I turned to her and looked down. My fists were clenched and even trembling a little bit.

Did I do that?

Oops.

"Oh, uh, I'm fine," I said, coughing a bit. My throat hurt gently right afterwards, and I cursed myself for a lousy cover-up. Jazz raised her eyebrows at me, and then glanced at my still-clenched fist.

"Well—" she started when a shrieking alarm went off in the house. All of the lights in the house started flashing red, and a wailing siren echoed throughout the house, intensifying my already aching head.

"What's that?!" I cried. Jazz jumped up and ran to a cabinet, swinging it open to reveal a complicated-looking control panel. She flipped a few switches and pushed a button, and the lights faded and the sirens stopped. I uncovered my ears and looked around, my heart racing.

"Ghost alarm," Jazz muttered. Then I felt it. The familiar chill that ran down my spine whenever another ghost was near. "There's a powerful one near to here." I stood up, a faint, cool breeze creeping up my arms. I wasn't sure if Jazz could sense it, but I sure as hell could sense the nearby ghost.

"Oh, crap, what do we do?" Jazz said, looking around. She ran into the hallway. "Stay here!" she called. "I'm going to do downstairs and see if I can, I dunno, track it or something." And with that, I heard a door slam and the house was silent.

Perfect.

Leaning forwards on the table to use my hands as support, I closed my eyes and concentrated again. I had been practicing, and calling forth my powers was getting easier and easier. I could already feel it racing through me, just _begging_ to come out.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw my old hands, the ones that were darker and filled with unrelenting energy.

I walked out of the kitchen and flew straight through the front door, out into the street. The sun was blinding, and I had to shield my eyes. However, I saw the ghost that had appeared. It was down the street.

A line of cars was before it, clearly having crashed because of this ghost appearing in the way. People were running away desperately, some people calling for help on cell phones. I frowned.

This ghost was _nothing._ Another low-level, no-work lowlife from the Ghost Zone who broke out and decided to have some fun,

Well, now it's _my_ turn for some fun. I flew over to the ghost, passing through him and landing in front of him.

"What are you _doing?"_ I said, silence falling over the crowd. The large ghost dropped the car it was holding and sneered at me.

"Me? What are _you_ doing? Coming here to take my fun away?" it said. I rolled my eyes. Yes, I looked young; but I had experience beyond their imagination.

"No, I'm here to kick your ass," I snarled, holding a palm out. The energy began to grow in my hand, and the next thing I knew, ectoplasm came flying from my palm and hit the ghost squarely on the face. The entire crowd of terrified pedestrians stopped, most of them with expressions of shock and awe on their faces; a _ghost_ that was fighting _for_ them?

"What do you want with these humans, anyway?" I asked the partially deflated ghost, hovering above him. He looked up at me, one eye closed and injured.

"Hmmpf," he muttered. "As if I should tell _you!_" he continued. "Why are you protecting them?" I held up my hands and shot another blast at him, a more powerful one this time.

"Why not?" I called back down. The ghost held the stump that was now his arm. He was literally falling apart.

"Okay! Okay," the ghost breathed, holding up his other arm. "I'm going." And with that, he vanished. The crowd below me was just staring at me now, many whispering. I looked up; a news helicopter was above me, the propellers (that's what they're called, I think) creating a loud, whipping sound.

That…. Was _way_ too easy. But I didn't have time to dwell over the oddness of the situation. I had to get out of there – I couldn't stay for long.

And with that, I zoomed back to the Fenton household, wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

"…mysterious ghost boy defeated the large specter that had stopped traffic at the downtown crossing earlier today," the woman on the news said, flashing a video of me speeding off into invisibility. Jazz was watching with a bored face, because she was hurriedly typing on her computer (again with these contraptions!) with her cell phone plugged into her ear at the same time.

I was sitting on the couch on the other end of the room, so nervous my hands were physically shaking and I felt like I was going to be sick. I had been caught. Not necessarily exposed, just caught. The world now knew that I was there and that I was a ghost on their side. At least, some people did. I think.

"Yes… Mom, relax," Jazz was saying, opening up a file. "Okay, now slow down so I can input all the information—"

_Brrrrrring! Brrrrrrrring!_

The sudden ringing caused me to nearly jump three feet in the air. Jazz rolled her eyes and picked up the phone.

"FentonhouseholdhowcanIhelpyou?" she said all at once, clearly anxious to get back to her phone call. "Okay," she said, and handed the phone off to me. "It's Tucker."

I grabbed the slender black instrument and, with a pounding heart, I ran breakneck speed up the stairs into my room, slamming the door behind me.

Now, I've only used a phone twice since I've been here, and I understood that it was a network of intricate cables and wires, but… I never really understood how it worked.

All I knew was that I could talk to Tucker without having to see him, and that was fine with me.

"So, I saw you on the news," Tucker said, cutting straight to the chase. I sat down on my carpeted floor in the center of my room, making sure there was no chance that anyone could hear through the windows or the door or even the walls.

"Yeah…" I replied weakly. What was there to say? Suddenly, out of nowhere, a pressure built up in my chest, and my nose tingled. What the—

"AaaCHOOOO!" I cried, sneezing. I rubbed my nose. I had been doing that more often lately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"So… Are you starting your heroics already?" Tucker asked, a slightly amused tone in his voice. I slid next to my bed and leaned back against it, staring at the ceiling. The neutral colors seemed to make me feel less anxious.

"Well, there was a ghost, and the Fentons aren't home this weekend, so someone has to stop the ghost, right?" I said, smiling myself. At that moment, Jazz started yelling downstairs.

"ALRIGHT alright, Mom, I'm sorry, just tell me again and I'll—yeah, yeah I got it…"

"What's going on?" Tucker asked. "I heard yelling."

"I guess her parents found a ghost while they were away," I said, standing up. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Yeah, maybe you'll know 'em," Tucker said jokingly. I smiled. He could always cheer me up.

The news anchor had moved past the story of my heroics and was now talking about some local art project. Jazz was standing up, both hands flying away at the keyboard. It amazed me how fast she was. She was inputting data along with receiving image files from the Fentons' cameras thousands of miles away. Jazz opened images of dark shadowy pictures that they had taken.

"Is that the ghost?" I asked. Jazz nodded.

"Yeah, a ghost that showed up during their reunion. They've dubbed it 'The Wisconsin Ghost'."

"Ooh, exciting," Tucker said in the phone. Jazz sighed heavily.

"This is so frustrate—ahh!" she cried, jumping back from the computer. One of the images she opened showed a rather good photo of the specter, as opposed to shadows and mirrors. "Oh, God, what a creepy looking thing. Looks more like a vampire than a ghost, though." I peered over her shoulder as she got back to work.

As I stared at the computer, Tucker talking away in my ear, I noticed something similar about the ghost. It was a photo of just its shoulder and head, nothing fancy. A large white body, glowing red eyes, the whole nine yards. But there was something about this ghost…

My eyes widened. My body began to shake. The strangest and strongest pangs of pain I had felt yet as a human began shaking at my stomach and chest, and I stumbled back, dropping the phone with a _thud._

_It was him._

_It was Plasmius!_

A million thoughts raced through my head. The wanted posters, the whispered rumors, the completely obliterated sections of the Zone, the mysterious, hushed meetings with Master where Plasmius just left yelling loudly… And there he was. On the screen. Here. In this country. With humans. How—When—

"Plasmius!" I said in a hushed whisper. Jazz turned around, gave me a quizzical look, then gasped and put down her phone, walking over to me and putting her hand on my forehead. I blinked. Somehow I had ended up on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor with my knees up, my back against the wall, my muscles tightened.

"Danny!" Jazz said, kneeling down on the floor. My eyes darted around rapidly. Just seeing his form _terrified_ me. He always seemed to show up wherever I was—

"Danny, are you alright? You're burning up!" Jazz cried. But I didn't listen to her. I just breathed as deeply as I could. Suddenly it seemed as if the room was spinning. I couldn't tell if it really was, or I was still scared about Plasmius. But was I actually _that_ scared? I mean, I was feeling physical pain…

The next thing I knew, my head connected with the floor. My eyes were closed, but I could still see. I saw Jazz back up, her hands over her mouth. She ran over to the phone I dropped. How was it I could still see when my eyes were obviously closed?

"Mom? Mom! Something happened to Danny, I have to call an ambulance!" Jazz cried. I blinked again. Now I was right next to her. I looked down.

Instead of jeans and socks, I saw boots and a cloak dangling around my feet. My eyes widened and I spun around, seeing my human body lying on the floor near the doorway. Jazz was hurriedly explaining to Tucker what happened, and hanging up. She turned – looking right at me! – and passed right through me to the television, which she turned off. I looked down again, and realized I could see the floorboards through my own feet. Okay, so I was invisible and intangible. That… works.

Jazz ran back over to where my human body was, leaning down close to it. She gasped and rocketed back, shaking her head.

"He's not breathing!" she cried. She looked around, panicked for a moment, then calmed herself down. "Okay, Jazz, you can do this. Just perform CPR and everything will be okay…"

"What's going on?" I cried out to no one. "Why the _hell_ am I over here?"

_"Relax," _a comforting, familiar voice said inside my thoughts. _"I knew this would happen eventually; your human body just rejected your ghost form momentarily because you were so worked up about seeing Plasmius on earth."_

"Master?" I asked softly.

_"Yes. It rejected you to make sure you didn't accidentally injure it or Jazz, but now you need to relax so I can re-attach you to the body before it dies."_ I nodded, closing my eyes. I unclenched my fists and allowed myself to relax, feeling my form almost whisp away.

_"Relax…"_

The next thing I knew I was opening my eyes, and Jazz was turned around. My chest felt like it was on fire and I wasn't getting any air. I was back in my human body – and I couldn't breathe! Panic spread throughout me as I tried to take in one long, choking breath – and started coughing.

Jazz spun around, on the phone, and dropped it – for the billionth time that night – at the sight of me sitting up and panting.

"Danny! You're awake!" she cried. She picked up the phone. "He's awake now, but I still think he should go to the hospital… Yes, O—Okay, we can do that, I suppose…" I sat with my back against the wall, my face wet from sweat. A man and a woman, both dressed in white came to the door later, and I was introduced to paramedics. They checked me out, said I was coming down with a "cold" (which didn't sound too good), and said whatever happened had passed because I was perfectly fine.

Throughout the entire ordeal I was sitting in that same spot, with my back against the wallpaper'd wall, thinking the same thought as it went through my head. It had occurred to me right after I woke up, pushing all thoughts of Plasmius out of my mind momentarily…

_Is that what it's like to die?_

_I wonder.  
_

* * *

_I know, I know, lameass battle. Haha. Don't worry, there's a pretty intense battle scene coming up... eventually. That involves Sam, too! Anyway, I actually don't have any of the next chapter typed up, all I have right now is a couple chapters down the road and... well... the beginning of the end. Haha. Anyway, I'm gonna be too pre-occupied reading HP7 this weekend, so if I don't get a chapter up before Saturday, then you won't see a chapter until sometime next week. It normally takes me about 3 days to read a HP book, so I should be done in no time. See ya!  
_


	6. Six

**_Empyreal  
empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Six-  
_

* * *

"I said no." 

"But – but Clockwork –"

"_No._ And that's _final,_ Plasmius. I don't want you to come around here asking _again._" Plasmius clenched his fists, trying to restrain himself from lunging at the ancient ghost. Clockwork held his staff firmly, eyes narrowed at Plasmius. Plasmius then just huffed and turned away, trying to calm his own fuming brain.

When he turned back, Clockwork had transformed into a faded old man who looked very tired. Plasmius didn't change his expression; he instead huffed again and flew off into the depths of the Ghost Zone.

Clockwork sighed and turned back to his castle, glad he was able to keep Plasmius outside of it this time. Every time that man came to him, either because he was trying to be sneaky or just to barter with him, Clockwork was insistent on keeping him _out_ of the castle, and out of reach of Phantom.

The timekeeper touched a bony finger to his looking-glass, watching Plasmius fly into what appeared to be a portal to another part of the Zone.

"How many times…" he said in a tired voice. "How can he not understand…"

"Master?" Clockwork spun around, surprised to see he was not alone. What he saw before him was a child; at least, a child in his eyes. He had stark white hair and green eyes, and was adorned in a violet cloak with Clockwork's own symbol holding it at the hood. In his arms was a little green ghost pup, wagging his tail and looking at Clockwork.

"Yes, what is it?" Clockwork said, waving a hand at the looking-glass. The image vanished.

"What did he want this time?" the boy asked as Clockwork walked by him. The dog yipped as if he were asking the same question. Clockwork sighed again and looked up at all the different clocks that went up into the very crevices of the castle.

"What he's always after, Phantom," he replied. "Immense power."

"Why does he come to you? Is he trying to take your power?" Phantom asked, sitting down on the floor. But the ghost didn't answer; instead, he disappeared, shimmering out of sight and most likely reappearing in another portion of the castle.

Phantom absent mindedly stroked the ghost dog's neck, staring at the spot where Clockwork had just been standing. Cujo wiggled his little body in the boy's arms and nudged his head into the crook of Phantom's elbow, giving a tiny, satisfied bark. Phantom slid the pup off of his lap and stood up, turning to the looking-glass. He had never really been allowed to use it, or even look into it. He knew he wasn't supposed to, and that he would probably be caught, but his curiosity was growing so powerful…

Against his better judgement, he cautiously walked over to the mirror-like sphere, glancing around nervously. If he had a heart, he knew it would be racing.

Carefully, he pushed his pale fingertips against the glass, his eyes traveling over the window to other worlds.

As soon as he touched it, it began emanating a powerful light. Surprised, Phantom stumbled backwards a few steps, his hands shaking. The glass shined brightly for a few more seconds, and then dimmed greatly. Phantom peered into it, squinting to see better.

He saw something that resembled… a house. It appeared to be made out of dark red bricks with white window shutters. Phantom walked closer, a confused expression crossing his face. Why was he seeing this?

Cujo yipped behind him, and Phantom leaped nearly three feet into the air, shaken by the dog's sudden appearance. Phantom again turned to the glass, but the scene had changed. He was seeing a cemetery.

It was an old cemetery, with many washed-out and faded headstones, some of them crooked or half sunk into the ground. Little chain link fences or statues separated families from other families. It was one of those old-fashioned family plot cemeteries.

Trees were dappling the light from a dying sun into the graveyard, making it look almost pretty. The scene seemed to focus on one particular plot. This plot had many old headstones, and they were all kept into one area by one of those miniature chain-link fences. A family crest was hanging from a metal plaque from what Phantom assumed was the front of the plot. He stood back a little bit, wondering why on earth he was looking at a cemetery.

"Cujo," Phantom started, "why do you think we're seeing this?"

Cujo just wagged his tail in reply. Phantom looked at it thoughtfully.

"Maybe Master was—"

"Was _what?_"

Phantom's entire body went rigid as Cujo began barking happily at the sight of the elderly ghost, and when Phantom turned around, he was face-to-face with his master.

"Uh—well—umm—" Phantom stammered, biting his lower lip. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, reverting back to his normal form. In his normal form, he was always much more menacing than in his child or elderly form.

Clockwork waved his staff, and the looking-glass went blank again. Phantom frowned and looked back at Clockwork.

"Master—I know I'm not supposed to, but—"

"Forget what you saw," Clockwork said, in a voice much colder than Phantom was accustomed. Phantom's mouth hung open a little bit, surprised at Clockwork's tone. He had never spoken to him like that before.

"But—"

"I said _forget it!_"

And he vanished.

Phantom frowned. He was positive that he was now screwed. Clockwork had offered him the chance to become human just a few weeks prior, but now he knew it wouldn't happen. He disobeyed his master's orders and thus, paid the price.

Phantom sat back down, defeated. Cujo came trotting up next to him, panting happily and wagging his tail. Phantom scratched his ears.

"I want to know, now," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "what kind of power does that idiot Plasmius want, Cujo?" He said, turning to the ghost dog. The dog didn't reply. "Why was a house – and then a cemetery – shown to us? Me?" he corrected himself. He turned back to the looking glass, but he knew that his master had now done something to it to prevent him from looking at it for the time being.

Cujo barked.

"I want to know, too," Phantom said, his tone defeated.

* * *

_Hmm, kinda pointless chapter here. I really wanted to do an interlude chapter, looking at how Phantom lived in the Ghost Zone and his days leading up to when he became human. Ooooh. Anyway, this kinda sucks, I apologize. Thankfully I had this mostly typed up already, or I wouldn't have even finished it. I'm in a real Harry Potter fixation (like the rest of the world) after finishing the 7th book, and I don't want to write a fanfic for a different fandom if I'm not into it. It won't be very good. So I'll finish the next (better) chapter when I get down from my high. Yeeeeeeeup. So I apologize for the shittyness, I just wanted to put something up!_


	7. Seven

**Empyreal_  
empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Seven-  
_

* * *

"Do you have a cold?" 

I sniffed loudly and groaned, my head pounding. It was the next day, and I had spent half the night sneezing and coughing. I ended up going into school late because I didn't fall asleep until about two in the morning.

Tucker leaned against the locker next to mine, grinning.

"So, how does your first cold feel?" he asked. I frowned, irritated, and slammed my locker open.

"Horrible," I muttered, grabbing books. As soon as I placed my hand on my chemistry book, I felt a strange pressure welling inside my chest, and my nose started to tingle.

Oh, crap.

I leaned back, away from my locker—

"AaaCHOOO!" I cried, making a couple people jump that was around us. I frowned and grabbed a tissue from Tucker's open hand.

"Don't say a word," I muttered. Tucker just stood beside me, leaning against the locker.

"Y'know… Sam came up to me this morning," he said after a time. I closed my locker and turned to him.

"She did?"

"Yeah. She said something about wanting to be friends again, and that she was sorry she didn't keep up correspondence when she went to St. Mary's," Tucker explained, stretching his arms as the bell rang.

"Oh," I said, my face heating up at the thought of her.

"It was very un-Sam like, but I guess she's tired of being a loner," Tucker said as we ducked into a classroom. We immediately took our seats in English, me sitting in the back row, Tucker the row in front of me and three seats to the left. I watched as Sam sidled in at the last minute, sitting promptly in her allotted seat near the front. Since I was in the back, her placement in the class made it easy for me to watch her. She was always so active in this class.

As we sat through class, I thought of all that had happened since I first got here. I had never expected to reveal my secret to anyone, but I guess with Tucker it was involuntary. Jazz – will she find out? I kind of hope not, for her sake… I doubt the Fentons will, if they can't even figure out that a ghost is living in their household, they must not be very good ghost hunters.

And Sam… I barely know her already, so I can't go gallivanting around that I'm a ghost. If I want to get close to her… I guess I'll just have to find a different way.

As the class ended and everyone bolted out of the class, Sam strayed behind. Mr. Lancer, the teacher, was erasing the board and mumbling to himself, and as I nervously walked up to Sam, my heart pounding away, he glanced at us.

"You! Danny!" Mr. Lancer spat, pointing at me. "Do you ever actually _listen_ in class?"

I frowned. I tended to daydream a lot in this class, simply because it was so friggen' _dull._ My anger began to boil, and I was having trouble controlling my powers. Lancer was able to make me so _angry_ so easily—

"He listens," Sam said suddenly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Sometimes he may not look it, but he does listen. If you take a look around this classroom, _Mister_ Lancer, you'd notice that he listens far more than anyone else does." With that she 'hmphed', grabbed my wrist, and promptly tugged me out of the class as she exited.

Mr. Lancer slammed the door behind us and she stuck out her tongue at the closed door. She immediately dropped my wrist, even though my face was already completely red.

"He drives me nuts," Sam muttered. She gave me a sheepish smile. We were barely an inch apart. This is the closest I've ever gotten to her… We began walking to lunch.

"Who – L-Lancer?" I stammered, mentally kicking myself for the stupid question _and_ the nervous delivery. Sam grinned.

"Yeah. I mean, he's a good teacher, I guess, and I _do_ enjoy English, it's just – he never actually realizes how many people don't listen. He also doesn't really like to take other's opinions into account," she added as an afterthought, frowning. I was just admiring her face. Her eyes were a lot brighter than I gave her original credit for, and her skin was nearly flawless. It was a creamy tone that had nearly zero blemishes, and I knew it was very smooth to the touch—

_Wait, what?_

I blinked and shook my head. I have _never_ touched Sam in my life! Ugh. My head was starting to hurt with all these weird… memories.

She shrugged and stopped at her locker, the hallway emptying.

"Well – at least we're allowed to _have _opinions, right?" I said, giving her a half smile. Sam chuckled and opened her locker door.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey – Danny, right?" she said as the second lunch bell rang. "You're friends with Tucker, aren't you? Tucker Foley?"

"Me? Yeah," I said, wondering if I had my history notebook. "I am."

"Well, Tucker and I used to be friends – way back," Sam started explaining, "and I wanted to, you know, reconnect with him and – I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come to a theme park with me tomorrow." I was incredibly excited and completely confused by this request. What in the _world_ is a theme park?

"Danny! Oh, _there_ you are, I've been looking all over for you!" Tucker cried as he ran up behind me and clapped his hand onto my shoulder. He smiled at Sam. "Hey, Sam."

"Hi," she answered, closing her locker. She looked at both of us. "I just told Danny the plan."

"So, you wanna come?" Tucker asked, patting my shoulder. I shot him a glance that _clearly_ said 'Help me!', but Tucker just continued to smile and raised his eyebrows.

"Well, uh, I'll think about it," I said finally, blushing despite myself. Sam nodded.

"It's a park that's been around for _ages_ that Tucker and I used to go to all the time," she explained. "So, be warned, there will probably be lots of random reminiscing."

"I don't mind," I murmured. Tucker pulled on my shoulder and gave Sam a small wave.

"We're going to lunch; bye!" he said, and the two of us walked to the lunch room. "Do you have any idea how _late_ we are for lunch? If we're lucky we'll get five minutes! God, I had _no_ idea you were talking to her, or I would have gone looking in the locker hall _ages_ ago…" I just sat down, my stomach doing flip-flops.

"Tucker – what's a theme park?" I asked. Tucker sniggered into his sandwich and had to swallow before he could laugh out loud.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "It's a place where a whole bunch of machines designed to scare and exhilarate you are located at one very expensive price that you can enjoy for a day. They're actually very fun." I nodded slowly, wondering what the hell he meant. "And anyway, it'll give you a good chance to get to know _Saaaam_ a little better," Tucker added in and sing-song voice. I just glared at him and started eating, breathing heavily and trying as hard as I could _not _to look at Sam across the room.

* * *

The next day, I found myself at the gates of what appeared to be a place dedicated to _torture._ Hundreds of people swarmed outside the gates, pushing strange little carts and carrying brightly colored bags. Behind the gates were tall metal buildings in shapes I didn't know existed outside the Zone, and the air was filled with talking, laughing and blood-curtling _screams_ that were coming straight from the oddly-shaped buildings. Parts of the buildings were spinning rapidly, or moving at breakneck speeds on tracks, or flying straight through the air. 

And this is what people do for _fun?_

"What the hell?" I whispered to Tucker as the three of us entered the park. I looked down at my right hand – a red X had been stamped onto it in red ink. Was this a mark of execution? What _is_ all this?

Sam and Tucker, however, looked perfectly content, and Sam even looked excited, despite, her dark long-sleeved shirt, black cap and extreme grip she had on her bag. On our way here she seemed sour, tired and annoyed – but once we entered her disposition became uncharacteristically sunny.

"Oh, I love theme parks," she said as we began weaving through the crowds. I nudged Tucker in the ribs.

"What is all this?" I asked in a whisper. Tucker grinned.

"See those? Those are the rides. You go on them for thrill," he explained. "Hence the name _thrill rides_."

"They look like torture devices," I said, staring at him with an incredulous look. Tucker just laughed.

"They're fun."

"You _torture_ for _fun?_ Are you sure the Zone and earth aren't completely different? Because that's something I thought only existed in a place where _you can't die!_" I said in an angry whisper. Sam had already gone far ahead.

Finally noticing we weren't behind her, she turned around and rolled her eyes.

"C'mon! Tuck, do you remember how much we loved this place in elementary school? I still have that photo of us on the Thunderbolt rollercoaster." Tucker smiled, adjusting his glasses at the memory. I just shoved my hands in my pockets and surveyed the area. There were people everywhere, of all ages and sizes, either running or walking or laughing or crying—

"Let's gooooooooo," Sam begged, and we finally followed. I felt like I had to dodge hundreds of people as we walked, since there were so many people coming at us. As we started to get to the heart of the area, I noticed people selling what appeared to be food out of little carts under umbrellas. People were lined up in front of the large buildings, talking animatedly.

I couldn't even stop my mouth from hanging open. This place was like a Hunters Cove for _humans._

Before I even knew what was happened, I found myself shoved into a pair of thick steel bars, Tucker right behind me. Sam was next to us, separated by more bars. A large, train-like machine roared past us, people strapped in by their shoulders. The train had white siding and a ragged, chipping thunderbolt painted onto the side. I watched it climb up, up, up a large steel track, and then roar down and out of sight, followed by screams.

I gripped the metal jail bars as hard as I could, sweat inching down my face. I looked over at Sam, who looked calm and excited, even. I glanced back at Tucker and saw hum rummaging around in his bag, not even noticing the death trap we were being sent to.

What the hell _was_ this place?

"Tucker, what are we doing?" I hissed to him. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.

"Getting on the ride, of course," he said in an incredulous tone. "This is a rollercoaster. You sit in the little car and the connected cars follow a track that dips and turns and goes really fast. It's fun, I swear," Tucker added, seeing my shocked face. "If you wanna pull off being a human, you have to take human risks."

"Taking risks doesn't seem to make much sense when you're _mortal,_" I murmured, my knuckles almost white. Sam didn't notice us talking, she was just looking around. I looked at her sideways, out of the corners of my eyes, so she wouldn't notice. She was playing around with her bag, humming to herself. Her dark hair flipped over her eyes a bit, and she pushed it out of her face absentmindedly, smiling a little. I immediately looked away, not wanting her to notice I was watching her.

Finally, the white death-train came back – with everyone it left with perfectly intact. I watched in shock as the shoulder bars that were holding them in place released them, and a large group of laughing, chattering people climbed awkwardly out of the train and walked down a large pathway and out of sight, perfectly fine.

Suddenly, the bars in front of us opened and I let go in surprise. Tucker pushed me forward, and I reluctantly climbed into the car, sitting in an uncomfortable little seat and being strapped in unwillingly by heavy shoulder pads. I could hear Sam breathing excitedly behind me.

"Ohhh, this brings me back," she said happily. I don't think I've ever heard her _this_ happy outside of English class.

The shoulder pads had metal rods to hold onto, and I gripped them with all my might. Tucker nudged my knee with his own, and grinned at me through his should straps.

"Ready?"

"Hell no."

"Now, remember, keep your legs and arms inside the ride at all times, make sure all your loose belongings are in the pouch in front of you, and remember – have fun!" For the first time, I noticed a woman in some sort of glass box with a control panel on the other side of the track, smiling and waving as she pushed a button.

Suddenly, the train lurched forward, and I immediately grabbed onto the rods. It moved slowly down the track, stopped, then suddenly lurched again, and starting ascending up a rather large hill.

I think, for a moment, I forgot that I was part ghost, and that if anything happened I could phase out of the infernal machine and fly to safety. Because I certainly did _not_ feel safe, at all, on that ride. At least, not at the beginning.

The train reached the top of the hill, and despite what I saw back at the beginning, all my fears came rushing back – we were going to go over the top, and fly out of sight, off the track, and—

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The track dipped and looped and twirled. At first I had my eyes closed as we went down, but when Ididn't feel the feeling of uncontrolled movement, I opened my eyes and saw we were, indeed, on the track. It seemed to be built going up and down and through trees, buildings and bridges, showing you different parts of the park. I could hear Sam laughing behind me, and as I realized we weren't going to die, the familiar sense of euphoria that came from flying crept into me.

The next thing I knew, I was laughing, too, watching everything wiz by. My heart was practically leaping out of my chest, but it felt good, as if I had just accomplished something.

When the train came to a stop, we clambered out and ran down the ramp that led us back into the park, all three of us grinning like madmen.

We stood in a small circle, panting and smiling, looking around the park. Sam was adjusting her hair and putting her hat back on.

"Wow," Tucker breathed, standing up straight, "I forgot how incredible that ride is."

"I know," Sam agreed. "It's been so long since I've been here." Tucker looked at me, smiling.

"So? How was it?" he asked. I just smiled at the both of them, my chest filling up with warmth.

"That… was _amazing_," I said. And for the first time, ever, I could say that it was honest.

* * *

The rest of the day went the same. Tucker and Sam reminisced over rides they had loved as children, and introduced them to me. As the day bore on, the two of them found out that they hadn't drifted as far as they had originally thought, and discovered that many of their interests were still the same.

I never realized how much fun humans could have, even being mortal. I was always under the impression that they had to be very careful and almost never took risks, because, by living in the Zone, I often saw the result of taking risks. But humans are a lot more durable than they're given credit for, definitely.

And certainly a lot more… _enticing._ At one point, we entered an area that was part water park. It was the hottest part of the day, so we decided to don our swimsuits and enjoy the cool water until the park cooled down a bit.

Tucker and I were sitting on the edge of a pool that a slide led into, dipping our feet in the cool water and waiting for Sam.

"So, has your day been satisfactory?" Tucker asked. I leaned back and felt the warm sun on my chest. I came to absolutely love the sun during my time here.

"It's been more," I replied. "I never realized how great being human is."

"Or just alive," Tucker said. "I always thought you were human, you were just… never given a life." I shrugged.

"I look human enough, but creatures born in the Zone aren't human."

"If you say so," Tucker said, looking around. "Where the hell is—Oh, there she is!" I looked where he was looking, and for the second time that day, my mouth fell open.

Sam came running over to us, her bag slung over one shoulder, her hat still shading her face, but she suddenly had a lot more… curves. Her black swimsuit completely covered her up, and she had this weird fabricy thing that was made out of the same material as her swimsuit to wear over it, but before she put it on, I couldn't help but notice how long her legs were, or how thin her waist was, or how incredibly shapely she really was…

_Ka-ploosh!_

I resurfaced, frowning at Tucker. He noticed me gaping at Sam and had pushed me into the pool. Sam raised her eyebrows at Tucker, who was surprised by her shape but not as shocked as me.

"He was getting a bit hot," Tucker said, winking at me.

I had to dive back under to hide my red face.

After our time in the water park, which ended up being two hours more than we expected, we decided to leave. It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon, anyway, and I was suddenly incredibly tired.

"Why are we so tired?" I asked Tucker as we waited for the bus back into downtown. Tucker pointed up.

"The sun," he said simply. "And all that damned walking." The bus took us to the nearest stop in town, which was two doors down from the Fentons. Both Sam and Tucker looked completely bushed, so I offered them my host's house to rest in before they headed home.

As we approached the house, we noticed a large, black car parked outside.

"A limo?" Tucker said as we jogged up the front steps. "Why is there a limo outside your house?"

"I dunno," I said, unlocking the door and pushing it inside. "Hello?"

"Danny?" Jazz said, exiting the kitchen just as we were coming in. She was wearing a blue blouse and a black skirt, her hair pulled back and looking extremely annoyed.

"Er… what's going on?" I asked. She nodded to the living room, where her parents and a man were sitting and talking. Jazz went into the room first, clearing her throat.

"Er, Mom, Dad—Danny's back," she said, motioning to me. Mrs. Fenton beamed and stood up as I entered the room, Tucker and Sam staying behind me.

"Ahh, and here he is—This is Danny, a student from the east coast who is staying with us for the next couple of months," she explained to the man. The man, who appeared to be in his forties, smiled at me. He had light blue eyes and a weathered look about him, (even though he was wearing what appeared to be an expensive suit), and his face looked awfully familiar…

"Why, hello, Daniel," the man said, a strange look in his eyes that I couldn't place. For a moment he looked as if he recognized me, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He extended his hand and shook mine, looking right into my eyes.

As he did, I saw it again. Recognition. It was almost like he was trying to penetrate my defenses, looking right into the spirit within me.

And his eyes widened. A small smirk appeared on his face, and his grip became tighter.

My arm stiffened. I knew that look. I knew that face. I knew those eyes. I had seen that look dozens of times before, seen those backwards glances as he was shown out by my Master—

"Danny, this is an old friend of ours – Vlad Masters," Mrs. Fenton said, smiling (although she looked pained.)

Vlad just smiled at me and leaned closer to me, his eyes never straying from mine.

"I've got my eye on you, Daniel," he whispered, just low enough so no one else would hear. And with that, he dropped my hand, gave me a small bow, and returned to his seat, facing away from me, but leaving me rooted to the spot, completely thrown off.

_What?  
_

* * *

_Aww, crap. And so we begin the 'eh, so-so' chapters. Filler chapters so that those three can become friends. Because it's IMPORTANT to the plot. Eww. This chapter... it bugs me to no end. We have now started a shaky friendship between Danny, Tucker and Sam, and Vlad Masters has been officially introduced. Woop-dee-doo. This chapter was originally going to end with Danny making some realizations about Plasmius, but it was beginning to sound so stupid and I couldn't figure out how to end it, so I just deleted a bunch and ended it here. Oh yeah. Anyway, I'm leaving for NJ on Saturday, and I'll be gone for a week, so... happy reading! And don't worry, fairly soon the chapters will actually start to be interesting again. Oh, btw, that theme park they're at are a combination of Canobie Lake Park and Six Flags - the two theme parks that I grew up with.  
_


	8. Eight

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients.  
_

_-Eight-  
_

* * *

Vlad stayed for a week longer before mysteriously leaving without even a goodbye to his hosts. Frankly, I had no problem with this man leaving; I felt like I was being strictly watched. It was horrible. 

This man… he was just like Plasmius. Right down to his mannerisms. And he had this glint in his eye that terrified me… I felt like I had to speed up just to avoid his piercing gaze.

In that week, he watched as Tucker and Sam continued to come over, our friendship growing. It was within that week that I realized that he _must_ be Plasmius. Maybe even another form of Plasmius, for I've heard rumors that Plasmius exists as a human as well.

This man also took a frightening interest in my true form, which had been causing quite a stir lately. After that first save, and a couple more from the ghosts of this town, people began to spectulate just what the "ghost boy's" motives were for _helping _humans. The Fentons, as ghost hunters and researchers, were especially curious, not believing I was doing it for good intentions. And since my entire plan was _for_ them to think that, I was frustrated. And Vlad seemed to perk up at any mention of the "ghost boy", which was a bit concerning to me.

However, despite all that, what frightened me the most was the way he smiled slightly when he saw me with Tucker and Sam. It sent shivers straight down my spine and left a hollow feeling in my stomach. It felt like he was almost targeting them in his mind. It was a feeling that I didn't want at _all._

Especially with Sam. The more I got to know her, the more my affection grew for her. I wanted her more badly than ever before. Sometimes our arms would graze each other in the halls, or while we were sitting on the floor of my room, and I would get a sensation Tucker described as "Goosebumps" up and down my arms.

And the more I watched Vlad watch _her,_ the more I felt that she was becoming his prey.

If this man really was working with Plasmius – what on earth did he want with me?

But it wasn't until he'd been gone for nearly two weeks that, one rainy night, Tucker came pounding on my front door, sopping wet and white in the face.

The Fentons were downstairs, a place I was forbidden to go, so I was just reading in the living room when Tucker's frantic fists sounded on the door, and as soon as I opened the door, he said "It's killing someone."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

"_What?_" I asked, hoping that it wasn't what I thought it was. Tucker looked back into the stormy evening, panting, fists clenched.

"A-a ghost. On Newbury Street – that's just a couple streets over – and it's killing someone. I didn't know where to go, or w-ho to—you have to come!" Tucker cried, his words coming out all jumbled and frantic.

I didn't even think. Newbury Street. Newbury Street. I know someone living on Newbury Street.

"I'm coming," I said, stepping out into the rain, eyes flashing from blue to green as I transformed. Tucker pointed the direction and I flew as fast as I could, whizzing through the rain. In just a few moments I had left Tucker behind me.

Even though I was in my old form, I could still feel my human heart pounding a mile a minute. I was whipping through the air faster than I'd ever gone before, or at least, faster than I could remember.

I swung around a corner into what seemed to be a slightly wealthier neighborhood. I looked around, the rain passing straight through my body.

Tucker had _said_ that a ghost was attacking someone around here—

_There._

A ghost – a _malevolent_ ghost – was hovering before a battered body. I gulped.

Even though I'm a ghost, I've never seen a cadaver before… and I'm not about to start.

As quietly as I could, I made my way closer to the ghost, trying to remain as silent as possible. I watched the ghost (a large, oaf-like ghost that slightly resembled an ape and a pig squashed together) bend down towards the body, and begin to… taunt it.

"I told you not to mess with what you don't understand," the ghost sneered. I heard a gasp and a voice. So, the body was still alive.

"G-get away from me," it said weakly. I froze. _That voice._

_That voice belonged to Sam._

Suddenly, my adrenaline kicked in. I felt as if I could fly faster and fight harder than I ever had before. My breaths became shallow gasps, and I clenched my fists, tensing my body. I flew straight through the ghost and landed between him and Sam, the howling wind completely unaffecting my body.

"You leave her alone," I snarled, and I almost startled myself on how angry I sounded. I heard Sam whimper behind me, then a _thud_ and a splash.

"Whyyyyyy?" The ghost asked, giving me a toothy smile. I narrowed my eyes at him, and focused all the energy that was whirling around inside me. That was when I noticed Tucker at the head of the street, wearing a dark blue rain jacket, even though he was already soaked to the bone.

"Because," I said, my voice murderous, "_I_ want to fight you now. It's _my_ turn."

"You? You're nothing more than a _child,_" the ghost said, waving me off with one hoof-like hand. I gritted my teeth, and I could feel the sudden heat. It zoomed straight down to my toes and up through my skull, as if it was entering my very skeleton in my human body.

"You'll regret that remark."

It was the last thing that creature ever said.

I thrust my arms forward, my palms connecting, and my energy burst. A strong, bright ectoblast nailed the ghost right between his shoulder blades, and the creature turned on his heel, glaring at me.

He was about to say something when I hit him again, this time zooming into the air and flying at him with full force. I stretched out my arms, opened my hands as wide as I could—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGH!!"

I could feel the threads of ectoplasm that held him together splitting like tissue paper; my hands connected with the ground and as soon as I felt the sting of hitting the ground I went through it. I turned right around and blasted my way through the pavement, hovering above what was left of this beast.

But it was still trying to fight back. It looked up at me and lunged at me, glowing red claws extending from it's hoof-hands. What kind of creature _was _this?

I moved backwards, moving so quickly I must have vanished for a moment because the creature began looking around wildly, thrusting its claws into the air.

When I landed, I felt a horrible aching pain in my side, but as soon as I felt it, the pain disappeared. I looked down and saw a great gash in my cloak, with something that looked like a green-red goo seeping out. I was leaking ectoplasm and… was that _blood?_

The creature sniffed the air and turned around, picking up the sent of the blood. The blood had a very distinct smell when coupled with the ectoplasm.

Tucker was kneeling in the street, half-hiding, half watching. I glanced over at Sam and watched her roll over, trying to pick herself up. It was then that I felt my own heart begin beating as fast as it had before… but for a moment, my anger vanished.

Sam pushed herself up, her bare arms practically white, and her entire body shook. Her clothes were wet, her skin was wet, her hair was sticking to her face. She had bloody gashes on her neck and her side, and I could see the blood mixing with the rain water. She was coughing and shivering.

I watched her take a deep breath, and then collapse right into a puddle. And she didn't move from that spot. As a ghost, and especially an apprentice of the great Clockwork, I could sense when a human was struggling with death.

_She was dying._

"No!" I cried, just as the creature swiped at me. I was caught off-guard and was thrown a few feet away.

And that just made me _angrier._ I bared my teeth at him as all sensible thought left my mind. My entire body grew hot once more; this time I could feel even my eyes changing. Suddenly everything around me was much brighter and… greener.

I put my palms forward again, and this time, I opened my mouth. I wasn't very good at this attack, but it was powerful, and I was going to do _anything _I could to save Sam.

A long, low note poured from my throat along with the ectoblasts. The ghost only gave one glance up before—

He was obliterated.

I lowered myself to the ground, falling to my knees. My entire body was emanating a white light, as it often did after using such powerful attacks. It was trying to gain as much ectoplasmic energy from the atmosphere around us as possible.

Tucker was just staring, completely shocked. I was kneeling on the ground, panting. I hadn't noticed this before, but because I had a human half, my ghost powers were limited to my _human_ body. That meant that there was an entire range of things I couldn't do!

I punched the pavement.

"D-damn…" I muttered. I heard a soft moan and looked up, glaring through the rain, when I saw her. And remembered.

"Sam!" I cried, forgetting I was still a ghost. I knelt before her, afraid to touch her. She was lying on her side, her legs crossed at the ankles; she had one hand lying gently across her abdomen, her other arm lying next to her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was pale with a slight bluish tone. The rain continued to fall.

With shaking arms, I lifted the upper half of her body into my arms, holding her with one arm, and using the other to brush her dark hair from her face.

"Sam," I murmured. "Open your eyes." My eyes darted to and fro, almost looking for some sort of answer. I gripped her by her shoulders and her head hung limply, rolling to the side. She wasn't breathing. Her skin was almost white and she was cold to the touch. She was completely soaked through.

I shook my head, trying to hold as much of her body in my arms as possible. Tucker had come over, carefully walking around what was left of the ghost, and knelt beside us.

"No, no, no…" I whispered. Tucker reached out and moved her hair from her face, touching her cheek gently. He pressed his fingers to her neck and closed his eyes.

"W-what are you doing?" I snapped in a whisper, rounding on him. I could feel my eyes glow in anger and he pulled back immediately, looking shocked and scared. I held her even closer to my body, cupping her head in my hand. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, shaking my head at the same time. I could feel the white tears welling in my eyes. My chest began to ache as I held her lifeless form. She was in _pain,_ she was _cold…_ she was dying.

Tucker just looked at me, pity in his eyes. I glanced back up at him and my entire body shook with tears. I have never, in my entire existence, felt so helpless.

"I was checking for a pulse," Tucker said softly, reaching out again. "It won't hurt her, I promise." With that, he again pressed his fingers to her bleeding neck and concentrated on them, as if willing them to do something. He pulled them away and looked at me again.

"She's still here," he said in a whisper. "She's not gone yet." As gently as I could, I touched my hand to her chin, and then grazed it over her neck. I touched my fingertips to her neck and closed my eyes. I concentrated all my power into my hands, and forced my mind to empty. I took a deep breath.

"Breathe," I commanded, in a voice that I wasn't altogether sure was my own. A white light zipped from my fingertips into her neck, and a moment later she began coughing, her chest heaving. She tried to push herself up, but fell back when I wouldn't let her. Her eyes opened and I could see how watery they were from her tears. She squinted at me, blinking a couple times.

My entire body suddenly filled with warmth, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of life in her body. She was alive!

"Who…?" she asked in a hoarse voice. But as soon as she asked, her eyes rolled back into her head and she was gone again.

* * *

"Thank _God_ you two were there," Mrs. Fenton said, for the third time. "I just… oh, that poor girl." 

"Still no response at her house," Jazz reported, coming back into the lobby area. She sighed. "Her parents have no idea that their daughter is in the ICU." Tucker and I sat in silence, both of us with towels around our shoulders. I had a large, white bandage across my shoulder. Apparently, the ghost nicked me a few times without my realizing, and I transformed back into my human half before it self-healed. Thus, when Tucker and I showed up at the hospital with a battered, soaked Sam, the nurses had rushed us off to be dried off and bandaged up.

"Doesn't that _hurt?_" the nurse had said when dressing my wound. I couldn't feel it, so I pretended it did. And I think I did a crappy job of pretending, too.

"You two were brave," Jazz said, smiling at us. Her face became solemn immediately after. "Let's just hope it wasn't in vain."

We sat in silence, waiting. Tucker and I glanced at each other, and the more I held onto the sides of the chair, the harder I gripped them.

"Sam…" I whispered. I couldn't let her die. I couldn't. I _wouldn't._ It would hurt too much. I had just become her friend. I was just earning her trust. I was just… My head started hurting. I groaned and held my head, leaning forwards.

"Danny?"

I was just beginning to know her… Except… I already know her… But—I just met her—

"Danny? Danny?!"

_"Danny!"_

"Danny, are you alright?"

_"Dude, are you okay?"_

"What's happening?"

_"Danny – snap out of it!"_

I leaned forwards, gripping my head. It felt as if someone were trying to slit my skull in half. My breathing increased and suddenly I felt as if I couldn't get enough air. I was hearing voices all around me – and inside me?

_"Danny, what just happened?"_

"Nurse!"

_"Tucker, move out of the way!"_

"I think his head is hurting him!"

It was so incredibly painful that I could barely think—

_"Danny?"_

"Let's see if we can get him into the ER—"

_"Guys?"_

_"What?"_

_"I… I think I'm a ghost."_

And then, as suddenly as the searing pain had appeared, it vanished. I sat upright, panting, one hand on my head, the other on my chest. Sweat dripped down my face and my skin felt clammy to the touch. A nurse was leaning over me, a confused look on her face.

"…Danny?" Tucker asked in a small voice. I stared at him, and then looked at the people around me. Jazz, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, the nurse… they were all giving me quizzical looks.

"Are you alright?" Jazz said finally. My breathing had calmed, and the pain was gone.

"Yeah, I think so," I murmured. What was _that?_

"Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?" a voice was saying in the background. Everyone turned away from me for a moment to look at a large man wearing a white jacket next to a young woman wearing a green shirt and what appeared to be a cloth cap on her head, a face mask down around her neck. She was sweating and looked very tired. The man was holding a clipboard and giving us rather professional looks.

"The girl is going to be alright," the man said, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. Even I seemed to have been holding my breath. "Have you contacted her parents yet?"

"Not yet," Jazz said in a defeated tone. "We have no idea where they are." The doctor frowned and looked down at his clipboard. "Well, we'll have our staff keep trying. For now, would you like to see her?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, jumping up. Everyone turned to stare at _me_ now, and I felt Tucker give my knee a hard jab. "Er, I mean… yeah." The doctor raised his eyebrow, shrugged, and turned back to the Fentons.

"Just to let you know, if she wakes up, she's not exactly in the… right _mindset,_ if you will," he said, coughing. "I mean, she was just brutally _attacked_ by a ghost… and she woke up briefly while she was in her room," he continued. "She said… she said something about an _angel_ rescuing her."

"An angel?" Jazz said, staring at the doctor. "Danny and Tucker were the ones who found her."

"Well, maybe it was that ghost boy that saved her," Mrs. Fenton suggested. "You know, the one that's been seen around 'saving' people?" She turned to us. "Did you boys see the ghost boy?"

I looked at Tucker, and he looked back at me. We were silent for a moment, and then we turned to the Fentons.

"Nope, we didn't see a thing."

* * *

_I apologize for taking so long to update. Life was starting to interfere again. Band camp, work, and the realization that my summer reading is due in two weeks. NJ was fun; beach, warmth, and NOT BEING HOME was nice. Umm, I wrote the scene with Sam being attacked by the other ghost for another fic about half a year ago, found it, revamped it, and used it here instead. Yep. Random random. I've been dying to write this scene ever since I first planned it when I was planning the fic forever ago. Whoopdeedoo. I'm not sure if I'll be able to update again before school starts (August 29th), but I should soon after school starts and everything starts to wind down..._


	9. Nine

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Nine- _

* * *

Sam's beautiful eyes didn't open again for another couple of days. Her parents had finally been located – they had been out on the town and had stumbled in at three in the morning to find their front door wide open and their only daughter gone. 

When Tucker and I visited two days later, Sam was still unconscious, a mask over her mouth and nose to give her air. She was battered and bruised from her ordeal, deep gashes running along her face and neck and arms. Her left eye was bruised right on her eyebrow, and the gash that was on the right corner of her lip running down her chin was so deep it would probably scar later on. Her mother had just left, having been escorted from the hospital in tears.

The attack on Sam had become the talk of the school. Everywhere we went, we were being cornered with shocked looks and being asked what had happened. It was so bad that finally teachers started handing out punishments to students who tried to weasel the truth from us, but that didn't stop the rumors from catapulting _everywhere._

"This is the first serious attack," Tucker said, snapping me back to the present. We sat down on either side of her, chairs placed right by her head, where her parents had been keeping vigil.

"Serious?" I asked, looking up at Tucker. He continued to just look at her, his eyes traveling to her face.

"No one's ever really gotten this badly hurt because of a ghost before," he said, looking at me. His eyes were completely serious, his face stern. The look made me feel nervous. "I mean, people will get bumped and scratched – great damages to property are made, of course, but… no one ever gets hurt like _this._ No one—" he stopped and reached out, gently taking her hand in his own. "…No one ever faces death."

"This is getting bad," I said, agreeing. "I mean, Sam, she—she _can't_—What's going on, Tucker?" I said, looking up at him. Tucker glanced back up at me. I got off the chair and knelt next to the bed, holding her right hand in both of mine. "Have you noticed, that ever since I first came here, everyone around me has been… victimized." I gulped, my gaze never straying from Sam's face. "First you, now Sam—and each time it gets worse and worse. You were lucky, I just happen to be there. But now this…"

We were silent for a moment, and all I could hear was the muffled sounds of the hospital and Sam's gentle breathing.

"And Vlad," Tucker added. "Don't forget him. He's clearly up to something."

"He's a ghost enthusiast, I know he is," I said. "He has connections to Plasmius somehow. And I think he knows I'm actually Phantom. I mean, you saw his face when he first met me that day—"

"—After the theme park?"

"Yeah," I said, rubbing Sam's fingers gently. "He knows…"

_Wait._

What if… what if Plasmius had sent that first ghost after Tucker? What if he had been watching me since the very beginning? It was a well-known fact in the Zone that I had become temporarily human. What if he's been watching me all this time? Through Vlad? _With_ Vlad?

_As_ Vlad?

"Tuck," I said slowly, "what if… what if Plasmius has been watching me this entire time?" The thoughts from the other night came back to me. "I think he may be after me for some reason. For some, unknown reason, Plasmius has been after me for_ever_, and what if he thinks that he can kill off someone I know so that I'll return to the Zone or—"

"Whoa, Phantom, just re—Sam!" Tucker cried in surprise. I looked down and, lo and behold, Sam's eyes were open. She took a deep breath and squinted at us, as if she didn't recognize us. She was still lying motionless on her bed, but she shifted a bit, her eyes darting from me to Tucker. She finally groaned and moved up in her bed a bit, her face pale. She gave a small smile.

"Hi," she said in a soft, hoarse voice. She glanced around again. "Where am I?"

"A hospital," Tucker supplied. "You were… attacked."

"Attacked?" she asked, her eyes widening. "Really?" She coughed a bit and breathed deeply, closing her eyes again to rest. I had to contain all my willpower not to reach out and stroke her hair out of her face. I have never seen anyone look so helpless before…

"I remember now," she said in a softer voice than before. "The ghost. The monster. That was no ghost."

"Why did it come after you?" Tucker asked, flipping out his annoying little hand-held computer thing. (PDA, right?) Sam gave a tiny shrug and licked her lips.

"I don't know. It… I was just sitting in my house. That's all I was doing. Just sitting. I looked up and happened to see this huge _thing_ outside, so I opened the door to see what it was, and… I don't know. I heard some laughter, and this bright pink flash, and the next thing I knew the ghost-monster was picking me up and throwing me into the air…" she trailed off, shivering with the memory. I moved a fraction in my chair this time, but still restrained myself.

Tucker was busy typing away, taking down notes on the attack.

"So, did the ghost throw you on the ground, too?" Tucker asked carefully, but I was still stuck on one detail.

_I heard some laughter, and this bright pink flash— _

I glanced down at my fleshy human hands, and I could feel the power of my ghost half soaring through my very veins, warming them. The blue veins in the back of my hands turned fluorescent green. I quickly put them back down in my lap.

_Relax,_ I ordered myself. _Relax. You just have to relax. It isn't him. You're crazy and think it is, but it isn't. It's not Plasmius. It can't be Plasmius._

_I refuse to believe it.  
_

* * *

The night Sam first woke, Tucker and I stayed until we were kicked right out. It was nearing eleven o'clock, and after I dropped Tucker at his house, I went home myself, thinking about Sam. 

Not wanting the Fenton's to realize I was coming home so late, I slid into the house intangibly and zoomed right into my room. The house had been dark when I approached it, and I grinned in glee that I hadn't been caught. But as I did, I realized I could hear something beneath me.

I knelt down on the hardwood floor and pressed my ear to the floor, listening to the family room that was below me. I could hear the murmur of soft voices, and… was that crying?

I sat up, my hands pressed against the floor. The windows in the family room had been dark when I approached the house; surely I would have noticed people in the room, right?

I made myself intangible and slid through the floor, hovering just beneath the ceiling.

There, in the darkness, with only streetlight from outside pouring through the windows, sat Jazz and Mrs. Fenton. Neither woman was dressed for bed, nor did they look like they were going to bed anytime soon. In fact, there were several half-full mugs on the table beside them. They were sitting at the end of the long couch, a pile of papers between them. Mrs. Fenton was dabbing her eyes with what looked like a thin, white cloth, and Jazz was talking to her softly.

Curious, I hovered lower, trying to listen to what they were talking about. Mrs. Fenton sniffed loudly and gave a small gasp as she tried to contain her crying. I landed silently on the floor and walked forwards, invisible to them. The papers appeared to be an essay of some sort.

"…just wanted you to know," Jazz was saying when I could finally hear her. Mrs. Fenton nodded and gave a small smile. "Mom, please stop crying. I'm sorry that I brought this up, but—"

"Jasmine, honey," Mrs. Fenton said, cutting off her daughter. "I-I'm grateful that you wanted to share this with me, I really a-am."

"You don't _sound_ grateful," Jazz replied in a low voice. Mrs. Fenton put her arm around Jazz's shoulders and wiped her face with the cloth.

"It's still heartbreaking for me," Mrs. Fenton said, sounding exasperated. By this time I was standing right beside them, next to the table. "But this essay… darling, sharing something so personal in such an eloquent way will _surely_ win you that scholarship."

"I know," Jazz said softly. "I know, I know. That's the point of the scholarship. It was either this or the admissions essay."

"This is far too touching to be copied and sent to dozens of schools as a standard essay," Mrs. Fenton said with a chuckle. She laid her head against Jazz's and, for the first time, I truly saw the resemblance between Jazz and Mrs. Fenton. I mean, they had similar features like the same hair and the same small frame, but side-by-side, they could have been sisters. Their faces were shaped almost the same, except for the obvious difference in Jazz's nose and eyes, which I assume she got from her father.

For a moment, my chest twinged with pain; but as soon as it appeared, it vanished.

Jazz pulled back from her mother's embrace and pushed her hair out of her face. She stacked the papers in a pile and placed them on her lap, where the only words I could read where the title: _Three Months._

'Three Months'? Three months of _what?_ I stared at it, trying to figure out what it could be about.

"Oh my, look at the time," Mrs. Fenton said, glancing at the grandfather clock nearby. "It's almost midnight. Did you hear Danny come in?"

"No," Jazz said thoughtfully, "but we've been here for awhile. He probably walked right past us."

"I'll check on him when we go upstairs," Mrs. Fenton said, sniffing again and wiping her nose with the cloth. The two of them stood up, Jazz shuffling the papers into a white folder. It was then I noticed that she also had a thin, blue book in her hands, which she hastily shoved into the bottom drawer of the side table next to the couch.

Mrs. Fenton walked right past me and started heading up the stairs, and that was when I realized she was going to check on _me._ I zoomed straight through the ceiling as fast as I could, and without even putting on my nightclothes I hopped into the bed, pulled the covers up over my shoulders, and laid with my back to the door. Heart pounding, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to slow my rapid breaths.

Footsteps outside the door, and then a crack of light as Mrs. Fenton cautiously opened the door to my room. I heard her footsteps as she walked over to the bed. Steady breathing, right above me. She pushed the hair from my face and I felt her fingers graze my cheek. I felt something cold, too, something metal against my face when she removed her hand.

With that she turned around and left the room. I turned onto my back, my body suddenly aching with fatigue. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and drift off to sleep. I loved sleep ever since I first became human. It was such a comforting, soft feeling, almost like heaven had me in its grasp. I couldn't help it; "Heaven" was a place I would never see.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. I wanted to know. I wanted to know why they were crying. That was Jazz's essay, the one that she had when I first started school here. Her college essay. About something incredibly private,

There was something far more emotional in this family than I had first perceived. For some reason, _I_ was put here. _I _was sent to this family. To protect them? Not likely. To help them? Doubtful. So then, why?

I clenched my fists in frustration as my thoughts bounced around my head. _Why? Why? Why?_

I wanted to find out.

* * *

After a short stint in the hospital, Sam was moved into her mansion in the upscale neighborhood of Amity Park. Apparently, she was filthy rich. Didn't see _that_ coming. 

Much to her dismay, she was secluded to her bed against her will, with servants and doctors waiting on her hand and foot. Every time we got the chance to talk to her via the internet (what a useful thing!) she sounded angry and pissed. She had a scar on her lip from the ordeal, and some of her deeper wounds that had gotten slightly infected were still healing, but it was no reason to keep her at home for so long.

We finally got the chance to go visit her about a week after she was moved into her home. I, for one, was deeply impressed with the size and stature of her house. In the Zone, since space was so limited around where I lived, the size of your living space showed your power. And she had _power_.

When we went up into her room, I wasn't surprised to see the dark walls, slightly disturbing posters, candles, and drawn shades. Sam was sitting with her dark bedspread pulled up to her lap, wearing a black shirt. The only thing different was her hair was pulled back completely, into a tiny ponytail bobbing behind her head. She wasn't wearing any make-up, either, which was a surprise. But I think the most surprising thing about her appearance was her naturally rosy cheeks and pinkish-pale skin tone. Yes, she was pale, but not as pale as she was in school. She _really_ poured on the contrasting make-up, was my guess.

She smiled when she saw us enter, and Tucker immediately stole her desk chair, spinning around in it. On her lap was a small, thin computer, which was how we had been contacting her over the past week.

Unfortunately for me, Tucker had stolen the only real seat, so that left me with the edge of her bed. And I don't know why, but I almost couldn't bring myself to sit down. I don't know much about human relationships, but from what I've gathered in the Zone, a bed was a… consummation place, I guess.

I don't even want to _go_ there.

Trying to contain my blushing, I gingerly sat down. Luckily, Sam immediately shuffled out from underneath her blankets and sat next to me, thrusting her computer onto my lap.

"Okay, so, I've been doing some research for my class, and I guess this 'Vlad Masters' guy is huge in the ghost field," she said, pointing to something on the screen. A bazillion windows (I think that's what they're called) were open before me, and I couldn't make sense of them. Tucker sidled over, leaning on me to get a good look.

"What class?" Tucker asked. Sam blushed and looked down at her hands.

"Er, well… I sort of teach a class at the Skulk and Lurk," she said. I had _no_ idea what she was talking about, but Tucker looked surprised.

"Wait, you _teach?_ Really?" he said, sounding surprised. Sam nodded.

"It's like a mythological-religious theory class," she said, turning back to the computer. "But enough about that. Look at this. This is ridiculous. Vlad Masters owns a dozen corporations, _and_ does his own ghost researching on the side."

"Why are you so fascinated by him?" Tucker asked. Sam looked up, thought for a moment, and shrugged.

"I'm… I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. "Something about him – I can tell. There's something to this guy."

"Like what?" I asked, although I could feel something creeping into my stomach. I had the same, indescribable feeling that she was trying to explain.

"Like… like he's doing something. Or he's done something. Horrible," she said, trying to explain.

"Like, he's—"

"—evil?"

"—and plotting?"

The three of us looked at each other, eyebrows raised, confused expressions mirrored. We had all just answered each other's unasked questions. In that moment, something fell over us; a wave of familiarity, a blanket of caution. It was _that_ feeling again. This was getting ridiculous. The feeling that we'd met before. And that, without having any evidence at all, we knew what we had to do. Who to fight.

All three of us shivered.

"That… was so weird," Tucker commented. "It was like major de ja vu."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It was. It was a lot like de ja vu." We turned back to the computer, where Vlad's smug expression loomed in front of us.

"What happened to him after he went to college?" I asked. "I know he was good friends with the Fentons."

"That's obvious. I mean, why else would he be sitting in their living room?" Sam asked. Tucker stood up and went back to his chair, spinning around again. Sam's half-covered thigh touched my leg, and instantly sent shivers up and down my body. Only these weren't the same as before. She was wearing shorts, and it was obvious she didn't have bare legs often because her legs were milky white, untouched by the sun's glare. It took all of my self control not to touch her, to feel her smooth skin beneath my fingers. With every passing day, every time I saw her, I felt as if she were the air I breathed, and without her, I couldn't live.

I had to find out why she was attacked.

"I'll look up Vlad after he got out of college," Sam said, and I had to stand up and walk away from her. She didn't notice; she was too busy searching for Vlad.

For ten minutes we were in silence; Tucker playing around in her desk chair, Sam busily searching, me, thinking. That's all I did. Think. I wish there was some way to talk to Master about this; surely he knows what's going on. There's no way he couldn't know.

Finally, after ten more minutes, Sam gasped. Tucker and I looked up over at her, wondering what was going on.

"Guys," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You'll never believe what I just pulled up."

"What?" I asked, and we walked over. On the screen, a newspaper page from twenty or so years ago was looking back at us. It was the _Madison Times_. The front page story was about a new industry being built in downtown.

"What about this?" Tucker asked. "Madison, Wisconsin. Who cares?"

"Look at this article," she said, pointing. "I pulled this by hacking the Madison Times archives. This issue isn't listed anywhere else for some reason."

"Why were you trying to access it?" I asked.

"Because I kept getting results for the name 'Vlad Masters'. Just look!" she cried, exasperated. Tucker and I leaned in, reading.

" 'Local college student dead'," Tucker read in the side-story on the front page. "So what?"

"Keep reading," she said, her voice shaky.

" 'This past Sunday, a young, promising researching from Wisconsin State University passed away from complications from a laboratory accident'," I read. " 'This student was none other than twenty-three-year-old _Vladimir Masters_, a local resident of Madison. It is believed that Masters, a life-long resident, had few friends in school, but did have a couple very close friends. However, contact has been nearly impossible due to their unknown whereabouts after their graduation last spring. Masters, who had no living family nearby, is going to be buried beside his mother in the Spring Hill cemetery after a service this Friday'."

The three of us sat in silence, staring at the screen.

"This was twenty years ago," Sam murmured. "How can… how can he have died, but… but be a huge business tycoon?"

"He can't," Tucker said, shaking his head. But I said nothing. My worst fears had been confirmed. In the pit of my stomach, I could feel it. The horrible realization that Vlad…

Somehow, in some way, he was responsible for something, somewhere, that involved… _me.  
_

* * *

_Oh no! An attempt at plot development! Augh. I apologize for taking nearly a month to update, I didn't anticipate the amount of schoolwork I would have come senior year. I also didn't expect to get so into that _**Almost Lovers**_ series. AND I lost my notes for this story, so I had to struggle to remember some plot points. So... this chapter has literally taken me a month. But it's long. And hopefully informative. I find it a bit too predictable, but eh, I had to get some explanations in. Sorry it's so confusing and repetitive. Anyway, I did this instead of one of the many essays I have due for various writing classes. I would have had this last night if I wasn't watching Star Wars with a friend of mine. We're trying to watch the all the episodes in order. We watched all of 1 and half of 2, and will be resuming this Friday night. Heh. Anyway, yes, an update, I wanted to get one out before I hit the month mark of no updates!  
_


	10. Ten

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Ten-  
_

* * *

"I don't think it's real," Sam murmured for the umpteenth time. She threw her hands up in frustration and sighed. "This is it. The _only_ article. Not even an obituary exists. And," she said, holding up a hand, "I had to hack this system to see this file. It was protected by some kind of copyright lock… thing." 

"I still can't believe you know how to hack a computer," Tucker said, frowning slightly. He fiddled with his PDA in her computer chair.

"Well, it doesn't matter now," Sam said, placing her laptop beside her on the bed and curling up her legs. "It's the only mention of Vlad Masters being dead. Every other article I'm finding of him has him being a gazillionaire and doing all sorts of _amazing_ things."

"He's an ass," I muttered. Sam sniggered.

"First impressions?"

"He just… I don't know," I admitted, sitting up straighter. I had (thankfully) moved to the floor. One more second next to her and I might have jumped her. But I had more pressing things on my mind. "Something about him rubs me the wrong way, y'know?"

"He seems… pompous?" Tucker offered. I shook my head. We sat in silence for a moment.

"We totally had a connected thought earlier," Sam said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft. She clasped her fingers together.

"Yeah," I said, wondering what her point was. It _was _bizarre. I had never had that phenomenon with someone before. I was starting to believe that there was more to humans than I previously thought. There was something about them, something… mysterious, even, in the way they worked. The way their body functions in such complexity and yet, they're resilient; how they're puzzle-solvers and creators; how they form intimate relationships that shape their very being. The more time I spent with them, the more I felt connected to them.

And at this moment, I felt more connected to them than I had anyone in my entire life.

"I don't know," Sam muttered. "Everything is just so… messed up."

"You got that right," Tucker said, grabbing his vibrating phone from her computer desk and flipping it open. "It's all messed up."

* * *

_Jazz._

That was the only word running through my head for the next three days. _Jazz, Jazz, Jazz._ How was she doing? Would she be alright?

The phone call was from Tucker's mom, who had just been contacted by Mrs. Fenton, who was looking for me. Apparently, a "large, mechanical being" was causing general havoc at a sporting goods store. There were three injuries; a sophomore boy, a freshman girl, and a junior girl named Jasmine Fenton.

Immediately we turned on the television and, lo and behold, there was the destroyed building with police cars surrounding it.

I knew the ghost as soon as I saw him flash by the camera. He actually isn't a very big or scary guy; he has a mechanized body that he uses to propel his "great hunter" persona.

After convincing Sam to stay home, Tucker and I raced to the scene, where the Fentons were having trouble focusing on catching Skulker (the ghost) while their only child was being shipped away to a hospital somewhere. Thankfully, no one happened to notice a flash of light as Danny vanished and Phantom appeared.

Suddenly gaining a sense of authority, I flew over to Skulker, landing right in front of him. He looked at me, shocked – but then a smile appeared on his face and his perfectly shaped, metal teeth gleamed with wicked delight as he looked down at me.

"My, my," he said, stepping back, "if it isn't Phantom, Clockwork's little pup. I was wondering where you had run off to."

"Knock it off, Skulker," I said, balling my hands into fists. I marched forwards, police, civilians, and the Fentons watching me in surprise. "Leave them alone."

"Protecting humans, are we now?" Skulker commented, standing up straight. He kicked a half-fallen lamppost completely over and stood on its base, his eyes training over the crowd that had gathered. I stood my ground.

"Someone has to," I replied. "With fools like you going through – it's a wonder they've lasted this long."

"Ahh, I see now," Skulker said, suddenly appearing bare inches from my face, sneering at me. "Once a human, always a human… Well, in any case," he continued, stepping back, "they opened the door and didn't shut it, so I take that as an open invitation to come and go as I please, right?"

"That doesn't mean you can terrorize people," I said, my anger growing. I could feel the rage building in my chest; even though I didn't have to breathe as a ghost, I could still feel my lungs burning and my heart racing.

"It's not terrorism," Skulker replied. He grinned wickedly. "It's the _hunt._"

Suddenly, the world around me exploded. He had dispatched some type of explosive that destroyed the ground. Pieces of concrete zipped past my head and crashed into glass windows, little shards flying everywhere. I became intangible and tried to get out of the vicinity of the flying glass shards, when I watched it rain down on the people. And, for a moment, my heart went out to them.

When I first came here, I identified myself as separate from the humans. But as time went on…

"Leave them alone!" I cried, zooming over to Skulker. People were getting hurt now.

Skulker just laughed and stepped out of my reach, but I somehow reached out and grabbed onto his metal shoulders and the next thing I knew, I was hovering centimeters from his mechanized face. Even _he_ looked surprised.

"They didn't do anything to _you_," I said through bared teeth. Skulker just raised his eyebrows at me, and attempted to walk away while I was still glowering at him. However, as soon as he tried to walk away, we both realized that my fingers had somehow melted his armor and my hands were now holding him in place. His jaw dropped (and mine did too, slightly) as we realized we were surrounded with a bright white light. My energy had become so _powerful_—

"He sent me," Skulker hissed suddenly. "Plasmius."

"Why?" I said back, my entire body shaking. I could feel it shaking and trembling, yet I felt as if I were watching it from the outside…

"I don't know," Skulker replied, his hand slowly reaching for his chest plate (I thought nothing of it.) "He just told me to come and… retrieve you."

"Wha—"

Then everything flashed into darkness.

* * *

I opened my eyes the next day. And then I found out that Jazz was hurt. Badly. Not just hurt as in injured, but _infected._ She was sick.

Every time I seemed to get closer to finding out more about that was going on, another person I was close to was injured. First Tucker was attacked; then Sam was severely beaten. Now Jazz is sick. Ech,

Humans have to deal with a lot, I realized. I had all this emotional baggage (my stomach, chest and head felt like they were going to explode) and I _still_ had to go to school. Didn't I get a chance to sort everything out? No, of course not.

I hadn't even seen Sam and Tucker in what felt like forever. The forty-five minute classes I had with them throughout the day was all I had. I couldn't let Sam know about the ghost part of me – I loved her too much. And Tucker… he wanted to help, but at the rate I was going, the next time someone I care about was attacked… it was going to end in death.

On top of that, even though I'd been here for awhile, I was _still_ getting used to the way humans lived. My brain was jammed to the exploding point of information. I could actually _feel_ my head pounding as I stuck it out in classes, trying to concentrate. For the next week, all I did was go to school, attempt to work, and go home. Jazz was doing okay, luckily, but ghosts were coming through at a much faster rate. I would go out and attempt to keep them under control.

At the _same damned time,_ the news in this town somehow pinpointed _me_ (as Phantom) as the culprit for what happened. That Skulker was my "accomplice". What was I to do? I couldn't prove that I _wasn't_ his accomplice without completely blowing my cover and having the entire _planet_ realize a ghost was in their midst.

No way. I was _not_ doing that. So now I had to live in this town and be reprimanded for things I didn't do. I was the one keeping all these crazy nuts under control, and yet I was blamed for their actions. It was just getting ridiculous.

And Vlad. The more ghosts that came through the portal, the more whispers I heard about Plasmius being in the human world. I knew it. Vlad is Plasmius's accomplice; there was no other explanation for it.

But the whispers were becoming alarming. Somehow, Plasmius had knowledge of things that had yet to happen. He knew that certain ghosts would come through the portal at certain times. He knew what they would do, or a variation of what they would do. It was almost as if the ghosts were written down in a story that Plasmius had already read.

And hell, were they coming. All ghosts that I knew, and then some. Ghosts I was familiar with – Skulker, Ember, Technus, Undergrowth, Ghost Writer, Vortex, Aragon, yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah. They were coming through in hordes, like an army – I was fighting a war, and losing.

Was this the reason I was put here? To stop the crazy ghosts from my world from tearing this world apart? It was outrageous. This _can't_ be the only reason. Surely, Master would have told me.

Right?

On the day Jazz was released from the hospital, Mrs. Fenton found me lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, a physics book draped over my stomach. I was spaced out, and exhausted, and recovering from a particularly nasty fight with a ghost I'd never even heard of. I was revolving all this information around in my mind, over and over again. And every time I tried to make sense of what was happening, my mind just continued to come to one conclusion: why?

"Danny?" Mrs. Fenton said, jerking me out of my stupor. I glanced at her, and she smiled at me. Our eyes were really similar, I'd noticed. "Jazz is home."

"She is?" I said, and I sat up, laying my physics book aside. "Are you sure it's safe for her here? Y'know, what with all the—"

"It's the safest place in town," Mrs. Fenton said softly. She looked tired and wearied. She had just gotten off a lengthy phone call from the one and only Vlad Masters. "It's strange, isn't it, how the ghosts in this town started arriving all at once?"

"Yeah," I said quickly, willing her to change the subject to anything else. "It's weird. Where is she?"

"In her room. She's really fine, but her father…" she trailed off and gave a weak smile. "He's overprotective." I couldn't help but smile. I walked past her and out of the room, walking down the hallway to Jazz's room. I hadn't even realized that I left Mrs. Fenton alone in that room, where she stood, looking at the pale blue walls that had been painted so long ago.

Jazz was sitting at her desk, her school books in a pile next to her. She was reading something on her computer screen, a letter in her hand.

"My essay won an award, Danny," she said as I entered. "Can you shut the door?"

"Sure," I said, closing it. Jazz turned to me and smiled.

"I want you to read it," she said, holding out a pile of papers. I stopped.

"You do?" I asked. "Are you sure? I thought it was private."

"Well…" Jazz said, grinning. "It's kind of… about you."

"What?"

"Just take it," Jazz said, and she stood up and sat on her bed, beckoning me over. I sat down next to her and took the papers in my lap.

"Well, it's partly about you," Jazz said, placing a hand on the papers. "And about my family."

It was then that I realized just what the paper was about.

"Are you sure?" I asked again. Jazz put her arm around my shoulders, pulled me towards her, and kissed my temple.

"You're like a brother to me," she said. "Yes, I'm sure."

With that, I began to read.

* * *

_Look! An attempt at plot development! Oh no! And I find this chapter moves too quickly, but if I went any slower this story was going to go nowhere. I've got to get better at moving the plot along. Anyway, pretty much most of my readers have gotten Danny's connections to the Fentons half-right. Whoop dee doo. On a side note, I went to a marching band festival today in New Hampshire, and was promptly poured on. We left half way through. Let me tell you; 100 wool is not fun to get wet. Not at all. Btw, any of you English dorks out there, I made a reference to John Gardner's novel Grendel somewhere in there. OH YEAH. I'm a huge dork.  
_


	11. Eleven

**Empyreal  
_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Eleven-_

* * *

"'_I've always been one of the few only children in my entire grade. For my entire life, my friends have all welcomed baby siblings into the world, or welcomed older siblings home from school. But whenever I went home from grade school, it was just myself and my parents. I love my parents, but there was something missing in my life. In all of our lives. Something that would complete us, as a family. And my parents, being the incredible people that they are, knew just what it was missing._

"'_Soon, when I couldn't have been older than two, my mother was pregnant with their second child.' "_

Second child? But, Jazz is an _only_ child… this was getting interesting.

"'_Everyone was excited, naturally. The few friends I had at that age were all excited that we were all going to have baby siblings together. Months later, we found out that we were having a baby boy. A little baby boy, all our own. I was so excited, that I dedicated my entire existence to making our house acceptable for another little life form. I can remember the hours I spent with my father, painting over the decrepit walls of the guest bedroom, making it clean and comforting for an infant. It was the room right across and down the hall from mine, right at the head of the stairs.'"_

That was… my room. Or rather, the room I was staying in. I thought about it a realized that, yeah, it was a light blue. A faded blue, like it had been painted long ago. And all the other bedrooms were white…

"'_But something happened. Influenza was going around, and my mother, then eight months pregnant, caught it. Luckily, she didn't have a horrendous version of it, and she got through it pretty well and pretty quickly. But soon afterwards, she began having problems with her pregnancy. The baby was moving too much, or too little, or he wasn't able to get food because the chord was constantly getting blocked, and then unblocking itself. I was too young to really scientifically understand the situation, but I think I knew what was bound to happen.'"_

Uh-oh. I glanced at Jazz, who was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, one leg crossed over the other, looking away. It seemed as if there were tears in her eyes.

"'_Three weeks later, my mother gave birth to an infant boy – six pounds, four ounces, pink and squishy, and perfect. Perfect feet, perfect hands, perfect arms, perfect face, perfect chest._

"'_Except his perfect chest didn't rise and fall with breath. And his perfect body didn't transport any blood. And his perfect little heart never beat once outside of my mother's womb. He was stillborn. '"_

It made sense now. Why they were all so apprehensive to have me in this house. Why I was here. This _must_ be it. Because they had a stillborn child. Although I was unfamiliar with the term, the context it was written in allowed me to figure out that he was born, well… _dead._ How horrible is that?

"'_My mother cried for what felt like years. Except it was most likely only for a few weeks, as a bout of post-pregnancy depression set in right afterwards. But to me, my mother was never the same again. Right after this incident, she had a hysterectomy, so she could never make this mistake again. And for my entire life, I've known that it wasn't her fault. And yet, she blames herself constantly._

"'_He's still around, you know. Somewhere. He's buried in the cemetery that's only ten minutes from here. Born on April twenty-third, at two-thirty-three in the morning, at six pounds, four ounces, with raven black hair that he got from our father and a pink squishy body._

"'_We named him 'Daniel', which I guess is Hebrew for 'God is my judge'. Whether God was little Daniel's judge, I'll never know. He was just so perfect, and so pure, I don't know how God could even judge him in the first place. He lived for nine months, and for a number of those months he was a clump of rapidly dividing cells inside my mother._

"'_Last year we applied for the Student Exchange program, so that a student from the opposite side of the country could live here for three months and go to my school. We tried for someone my age, but instead we got a fourteen-year-old Freshman named Danny._

"'_I know he has his own family, his own siblings to worry about, and his own home, but he's the same age that _our '_Danny' would have been, if he were still alive. And sometimes I can't help but love him like the little brother that I never got to know._

"'_Three months just isn't enough.'"_

I lowered the paper into my lap, taking a deep breath. Jazz sat beside me, looking at the floor.

"…well?" she asked finally. A street lamp outside flicked on, its yellow light reflecting off the curtains. Night was here.

"Well… what?" I asked slowly. She sighed.

"What do you think?" I looked down at the paper again. She _had_ said it was partly inspired by me, but I never imagined this.

Although, I guess I kind of expected it. In the back of my mind, I _knew_ that there must have been something that happened that would cause Jazz to wish for her entire life for a sibling. I just never knew that what had actually happened was so… heartbreaking.

"I can't say I'm…. very surprised, I guess," I started. Jazz looked up at me. "I mean, I kind of had the suspicion that something happened, but… I never thought it would be as _tragic_ as… this." I handed the paper back to her. "It's captivating."

"I'm glad," she said softly. She sighed. "I'm sorry I never told any of this to you before. I mean, you've been living with us for over a month now, and I guess it explains our… odd behavior."

"So, all the ghost experiments…?" I asked, wondering if I was right. Jazz nodded.

"My parents were always interested in ghosts. But… after what happened, it seemed as if they were focused on finding him in the Ghost Zone. Soon they just became wrapped up in the Ghost Zone in general. I don't think they're still trying to find him in there anymore, but sometimes I wish they were, just so… they could remember him." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. She shifted and brought up the slim black folder, the one she had brought in when she came into the room. She handed it to me.

"I also wanted to show you this," she said, and I opened the folder. Inside was a rather official looking document, laminated since it was so old. It had the words "Amity Park, California; City Hall" printed across the top in official-looking letters, crisp and clear. And below that, on the line, was a name neatly printed in pen.

_Daniel Fenton_.

"His birth certificate," Jazz murmured. There was all the usual information on it, weight, time of birth, parent's names. There were even his footprints, done for all newborns. I touched the paper, the tiny little feetprints that would never mold in the sand or mud, that would never outgrow a pair of shoes in one week. The little feet that would never crawl or walk or run. It really _was_ tragic.

His left foot had a line that ran from his big toe all the way down to his heel that almost curved into a small spiral. It was unusual, to say the least.

"Yeah, his foot had that weird crease on it," Jazz said, noticing my eyes were on the foot prints. I handed it back to her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "It must have been so hard for you, especially with me coming, knowing my name was 'Danny' and that I was the same age as your brother."

"Well, it was fourteen years ago," Jazz said, sighing. "We've moved on." She stood up, stretching her arms. "Well, we should go to sleep." I nodded in agreement, my thoughts still preoccupied with her baby brother.

"Goodnight," she said to me as I approached the doorway. "Oh, and Danny…?"

I looked up.

"Thank you."

* * *

"Oh, my God, I never thought I'd say this, but I am _so_ glad to be outside." Sam breathed deeply and leaned back against the tree she was sitting in front of. "I'm not even joking. Don't give me that look."

"I'm not giving you any look," I said, grinning. Sam had finally been released from her jail cell of a room, and came back to school.

It was after school, and Sam had coaxed me (and Tucker, wherever the hell he was) to stay and just hang out on the school grounds. Although it was October, the air was still warm and sweet, since we were in California. Sam had taken off her boots and was wiggling her toes in the long grass, leaning against a great elm tree on the campus.

"C'mon, take your shoes off," she commanded, sitting up. "It feels nice."

"…Alright," I agreed. My head was still filled with what Jazz revealed to me just a few days earlier. I couldn't get the nagging feeling that I _knew_ something about her brother. I mean, I've existed in the Ghost Zone for somewhere around fourteen years; Master was never too sure of when I first showed up.

But I felt as if I _knew_ him.

I pulled my sneakers off and my socks, stretching my legs and allowing the grass to tickle my feet. It felt funny and comforting all at the same time. Sam lay down on her stomach at my feet, propping her head up in her hands. She glanced at my ankles and laid her head on them for a moment, her face that one of a scientist conducting an experiment. I stared at her, bewildered.

"Your ankles suck as pillows," she concluded, lifting her head and instead tapping my toes idly. I blinked.

"Well, they _are_ mostly bone," I said, staring at her. She grinned, placing her hands on the ground. We sat there for a moment, and I pulled my feet back into a criss-crossed position and leaned against the tree. Sam was just so bizarre… but that was what made me love her so much. Every time she touched me, I could hardly contain myself. My love for her had only grown in the past few weeks.

She leaned down and turned her head to look at the school. Her eyes then trained top my feet, oddly enough. She wrinkled her brow and pushed herself over to my feet, touching the soles of my feet.

"This is odd," she said, her finger gliding over my foot daintily. (It tickled like_hell_, but I was controlling myself in fear of kicking her.) "Your foot has this weird crease-shape thing."

"What?" I said, sitting up. I've never taken a real look at the sole of my feet, since, well… they're the soles of my feet. What's there to look at?

I pulled my left foot into my lap, Sam sitting up beside me to look with me.

"What's so odd about it?" I asked. "It looks like a foot."

"Look at this, though," she said, touching my big toe. My eyes widened as she traced a line, a thin, faded line, down from my big toe, all the way down my foot to my heel, where it seemed to curl.

_Like a spiral._

I had never noticed it before. I doubt I would have noticed if she hadn't pointed it out.

"I've never seen something like that," Sam said softly as I just gaped at my foot. "I mean, normally people's feet are all wrinkly, but… this is almost pretty. Artistic." I just stared at it.

It was very old looking. It must have been there for a very long time. I retraced the path with my fingers, my foot twitching in response to the touch.

_It's the same mark. The same shape._

_Could it also be the same foot?_

No, I thought to myself, leaning back. No, because he's dead. Jazz said so herself. His body is buried in the cemetery. This isn't his body; this is one Master made for me.

_But…_

Things started occurring to me. My entire existence, I had been known simply as 'Phantom'; my hair had always been snow white, my eyes a fluorescent, glowing green. I started out as a baby, and grew over the years, at a rate equal to a human's. But it wasn't unusual for some ghosts to do that. Ghosts who weren't the souls of the dead, creatures created in this dimension, did the same thing. So it was always assumed I was a creature created by the Ghost Zone.

But when I became human, Master changed my features. He made my hair raven black and my eyes as blue as the sky. My skin became fairer. And he gave me a name.

_Daniel._

I'd been in the Ghost Zone for fourteen years.

_Jazz's brother has been dead for fourteen years._

I started out as an infant, practically a newborn.

_He died in infancy._

I have white hair and green eyes. Just the opposite of his colors.

_But when I became human, I looked like him._

His name was 'Daniel'.

_My human name is Daniel._

Master never told me _why_ my name is Daniel.

_No, he did; he said my human name… was Daniel._

We have the exact same bizarre crease on the sole's of our left feet.

"Danny?" Sam asked, leaning back. I blinked and looked at her, realizing that I had been staring off into space as I tried to piece things together.

"I…" I started, my thoughts spinning. What was going on? I hopped onto my feet, staring at the ground. What was it that had been said?

"_Once a human, always a human,"_ Skulker had taunted me with.

All of those familiarities… I had felt so at _ease_ when I first met the Fentons, as if I were truly one of them.

_Am I?_

"There's… there's someone I have to see," I said slowly. My head was pounding with the sudden influx of information. Sam frowned at me.

"What? What's going on? Danny, are you okay?" But I didn't answer. I had to go see him, finally. I had to confront this head-on.

I don't know what I hoped to accomplish by this, or what good going there would do. But I _had_ to do _something._ I just… had to.

"Sam," I said, turning to her, dipping my feet back into my shoes. "Can you lead me to the cemetery?"

* * *

"…This one's a bit older," Sam explained, grasping the rusty gate in her hands. "I don't think anyone uses it anymore. It was bought out a long time ago anyway; this is mostly family plots going back generations." I said nothing, and just followed her into the cemetery. It wasn't very large, but it had enough trees to have the entire place nearly all shaded. Two tall stone pillars held the gate in place with a wrought iron fence going all the way around. There was a small path going through the neatly trimmed grass, breaking off into areas of little chain link fences, keeping families together for all eternity.

"If you want to find someone in one of the old families… this is where you go," Sam said, her voice a bit shaky. "There are people buried here from somewhere around two hundred years ago, or more… all within the same family."

"How do you know who's families are the old ones?" I asked as we walked through the cemetery. This was my first time ever being in one; now I knew why so many ghosts never wanted to leave this place. It was so tranquil and peaceful here… and I'm sure that those ghosts would never lose memory of themselves or their families by staying here.

Unlike all those ghosts who fall victim to degeneration…

"Well, I guess you can always ask them," Sam replied thoughtfully. She grabbed onto my hand without thinking. "Or you could—"

"—Find their family plot," I supplied, stopping. Sam stopped to see what I was looking at.

Before us, on the left side of the path, was an area closed off by a chain-link fence only a couple feet off the ground. Hanging off the links was what appeared to be an iron plate with a British family crest impressed on it. And inside the fence was a number of tombstones – some big, some small, most of them old. A couple looked newer, and at least two or three had been completely faded from time.

The crest said "Fenton" in a neat print right above it. Sam gasped a little as I stepped up to the crest.

"Y-yeah, the Fenton's are an old family," Sam said slowly. "I know they've been here for ages – their family was one of those British families that traveled West after immigrating here. Or something. Jazz wrote some paper about it that was a big deal."

I squinted into the plot, trying to see it. I know that just walking in there would be the easiest bet, but I know better than _anyone else_ to respect the dead.

For all I was concerned, I was one of them.

I walked around the plot, grazing my hand over a particularly old tombstone near the corner. Sam watched me from the pathway, eyebrows raised. It was kind of her not to inquire – but I still felt badly all the same. I was leaving her over there, confused, as I was scouring around a family plot. I must have seemed like the creepiest person alive at the moment.

Then I saw it. It took me awhile because I was looking for a headstone of some sorts, but there wasn't one. There was, however, a marble plaque pressed into the ground near a family member who died in 1978. In between that grave and the grave of someone who died in 1881 was the small plaque. I knelt down on the ground right outside of the plot and leaned over, brushing some of the dirt away, the words glinting in the dying sun.

_Daniel John Fenton  
April 14th, 1990  
Six lbs. four ozs.  
2:33 a.m.  
Always in our Hearts_

And, for the second time, I saw those footprints. They were etchings obviously made from the birth certificate, but there they were, on either side of his name.

_My_ name.

"Danny, who are you looking for?" Sam called, treading cautiously onto the grass behind me. I just stared down at the little plaque.

_Is this me?_ I thought to myself. I looked down at my hands, and put those hands to my cheeks. I did _look_ like a Fenton; I'd been mistaken for Jazz's cousin or nephew or something like that dozens of times.

"…Who's that?" Sam asked. I hadn't even noticed her leaning over my shoulder.

"Jazz's baby brother," I told her. Sam opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

"She… had a brother?" she asked. "I've known Jazz since she was ten and I was eight; she was my reading partner when we were little. And she _never_ mentioned having a brother, or losing one."

"He… was stillborn," I supplied for her in a soft voice. Sam dropped down into the grass beside me and sighed.

"That's so sad," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "A stillborn baby… I can't even imagine."

"Yeah…" I agreed, still focused on the plaque. "That's what she wrote her personal narrative about. Her brother… and me."

"You? What about you?" Sam asked tenderly, raising her eyebrows. I took a deep breath, and turned to her. I cupped her chin in my hands and sighed deeply.

"I… I think _I'm_ her baby brother, Sam. I think _I'm_ Danny Fenton."

* * *

_Ba ba BUUUUUUHM. Yeah. Like half of you hadn't figured that out already. Hmm. Well, it was pretty obvious, but the reasoning behind all this nonsense is still a mystery to everyone but me. Pretty much everyone figured out that Phantom and Danny were the same person (duh) but the reasons... no one's gotten close. That's exciting. Believe it or not, I typed this chapter up AAAAAAAGES ago. Literally. I'm talking last spring, maybe last winter. Haha. I just went through and revised it and made it up-to-date, because I had different ideas back then. So, not much of a cliffhanger, but hey, whatcha gonna do, right? Right. I thought so. Yeah. I'm done._


	12. Twelve

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Twelve-_

* * *

"Judging from the shocked look, I'm guessing you told her the truth about you?" Tucker said as I locked my bedroom door. I turned around and frowned at him. 

Sam, on the other hand, was sitting on my bed, looking at me with the most ludicrous expression I have ever seen.

Once I blurted out my theory, I had to explain to her who I _actually_ was… a powerful ghost called Phantom, who's lived for fourteen years in the Ghost Zone as a student to many ancient ghosts. A ghost who had never been human; a ghost who received the gift of life.

And naturally, she was a bit more than shocked. Actually, she thought she was going insane for awhile. It took a few minutes to convince her otherwise… although I don't think I did a very good job.

"Yeah, I was pretty surprised, too," Tucker said, grinning. "Then again, he also saved my life when _I_ found out, so I guess it wasn't all bad." Sam just stared at Tucker, then at myself. I sighed. "So, what's all this about?"

"Well… you two and Jazz are the only friends I've made here," I started. "And… I don't think Jazz could handle this information right now."

"_What_ information?" Tucker asked, sliding into the chair at my desk. I folded my hands thoughtfully behind my back and looked at both of them.

"This… is going to sound crazy," I started. "Well, Sam already knows of the insanity. Tucker, I _know_ you've read Jazz's personal narrative, so you know it's about her stillborn brother." Tucker just nodded in confusion. Sam had clamped her mouth shut, but was holding her knees against her chest, staring up at me.

"Yeah… what of it?" Tucker asked. I sighed again. Why was this becoming so difficult?

"Well… after thinking about it… a lot… I think… _I'm_ Danny Fenton. Actually, more like _Phantom_ is Danny Fenton's _ghost._"

There was silence for a moment. Tucker looked from me to Sam, and then back to me, his jaw hanging open. I bit my lip and looked back. I had little to no proof; only claims that I made in my head.

This was all going crazy in my mind.

Finally, someone spoke.

"…Are you sure?" Sam asked from her place on my bed. She let her legs down and leaned forwards, her eyes wide. "I mean… you're a ghost. A ghost who _ages_. A ghost who has lived in the Ghost _Zone_ – looking different – and you think you're the ghost of a family's dead _son?_" I shrugged.

"Yeah, basically," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. "But it makes _sense_, doesn't it? How many times have people mistaken me for a Fenton? How many times have I been told how much I look like Jack or Maddie or even _Jazz_ a few times? I'm his age, I have his features – he had black hair and blue eyes, too!" At each proclamation, my voice grew louder and louder, until I was shouting and I didn't even realize it.

"This whole time, I've been trying to figure out _why me, why now_ – my Master told me numerous times over that it was the 'right time' for me to try out being human, but I can't understand why. Is this what he meant? So the Fentons could have a taste of having their son back? Or having him at _all?_" That was when I noticed my heaving chest, my raised arms. I lowered them and just looked at my two friends.

"Wow," Tucker breathed. "Wow. I can honestly say I had no idea that my high school career would start out being friends with someone's dead brother." He straightened up and looked directly at me.

"So… you think I'm right?" I asked. Tucker gave me a half-grin and stood up.

"I have no doubt in my mind that you're a Fenton," he said. "You act like them, you look like them, hell,_and_ you're what they do for a _living_."

"I don't know if I'm certain yet," I said, my thoughts once more becoming jumbled. "But…"

_Wait._

Out of all my jumbled thoughts, there was one that suddenly struck out against the others.

"But…?" Tucker asked, but I pushed him aside and walked to the window, leaning out of it. The cool breeze lifted my hair off of my forehead.

"…But he was after me," I murmured._Plasmius has been after me for years._ _He_ wanted to take me in. _He_ wanted to teach me, as opposed to Master or the others. He—

_He wanted to turn me human and make me his son._

I clenched my fist.

How could he _do_ that? How could he want to take the soul of the Fenton's son – _me_ – away from them? Master had kept me within their reach all these years; their portal is very close to where I lived. So what if he didn't get what he wanted all those years ago?

"He wants me," I said, turning to Sam and Tucker. Tucker frowned.

"Who?"

"Vlad," I muttered angrily. "I think that's why. Master sent me here – as a human in the human world – to get me away from Vlad. He knew Vlad's plan; and Master didn't want me to be his son."

"Wait, what?" Sam said, leaning forwards. "Vlad Masters? That rich guy?"

"The gazillionaire?" Tucker supplied.

"Yeah," I said, sighing. "I know it's confusing, but… Vlad and Plasmius are cohorts or something, and they're sending in all these ghosts to this world to try and get me to go _back_ to the Zone so they can, I dunno, capture me or something. It's common knowledge that Plasmius wants me as a son or an apprentice or something crazy like that."

"Wait, who's Plasmius?" Sam asked.

"One nasty guy," I said, sighing. "Picture Masters if he were a ghost. That guy."

"I knew I didn't like him when I met him," Tucker murmured, shaking his head. "Whatta jerk."

"So, Masters is Plasmius?" Sam said, at the same time that Tucker said "I hate that guy!"

But both Tucker and I stopped and stared at her. She was scratching her head, pushing her hair absently behind her ear. Her face was white and she was obviously confused and scared. I mean, she couldn't have said what I think she said. Right?

"What?" I asked, disbelief lining my words. "Um, Plasmius is a _ghost._ Masters's isn't."

"But he's dead, isn't he? Remember?" she replied, sitting up a little straighter. Her eyes darted around the room and I knew that she was probably giving up on her own sanity for the moment. "That article."

"It was one article, Sam," Tucker said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought it was fishy," she replied in a small voice. "What if… What if Vlad was trying to hide the article? I mean, I did have to get past several locked folders to get at it."

We were silent. She had a point. That whole article thing didn't tie in at _all._ But at the same time, my brain kept pushing it out of the way. _Its one article,_ a voice in my head said. _It could be anyone. How do you know there isn't more than one Vlad Masters out there?_

"How likely is that?" I murmured to myself. Both Sam and Tucker looked up at me in surprise. I didn't realize that I wasn't tuned into the conversation anymore.

It was then I realized that Sam was holding onto my bedspread so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her face was pallid and she looked like she was in pain. Oh, how I hate seeing her like this!

"I… I think I need to go home," she said softly, standing up. "I'm having trouble believing all this."

"It's okay, you'll get used to it," Tucker said, smirking. Sam bit her lower lip and shot her lavender eyes at me. She was trying to believe, but her eyes showed fear and confusion. I can't say I blame her. I'd be shocked too if I just learned this. But part of me was concerned, too. I thought of all people, _Sam_ would take to this whole thing much easier. This was her love. The paranormal was something that she relished in and told me _countless_ times that she wished something amazing like this would happen.

Well it's happening… why wasn't she happy?

"Do you need a ride?" I asked, trying to sound helpful. She shook her head and walked across the room, closing the door behind her. Both Tucker and I watched her leave. I sighed and sat down on my bed, holding my head in my hands. Everything was mashing together in my brain so quickly that it was hurting.

"Listen, dude, she'll be fine in a couple of days," Tucker said, turning to me. I shrugged. "I mean, it's not like she'll think you're a bad guy. You've been saving our asses for weeks now from all sorts of things."

"She doesn't know that _that_ ghost and I are the same. At least, I don't think she does," I said, staring at the floor. "Tucker, what am I going to do? Masters or Plasmius or – _someone _is going to come, and soon. And I don't know _what_ to do. And I don't know what he wants – besides me, of course." Tucker was silent. He just looked up at me from his position on the floor. After a time, he spoke.

"What does he want you for again?"

"I have no idea," I said, throwing up my hands. "For as long as I've existed he's wanted to make me his apprentice or something. Make me learn all his tricks and moves. I mean, for an awful guy, he's pretty skilled. He's both feared and admired all over the Zone."

"So for how long has he been doing this?" Tucker asked. I shrugged.

"Forever." Tucker crossed his legs and leaned onto his arms.

"We're getting nowhere."

* * *

Sam avoided us for the next few days. As a matter of fact, she vanished from school completely on the third day since I revealed myself to her. She always seemed preoccupied and distant, with her head in a book or writing in a notebook. She seemed constantly troubled and would show up to school with dark circles under her eyes. After being absent for a couple of days, she showed up in school again, looking as flustered as ever. The notebook she had been writing in was stuffed with papers and notations. She was clearly working strenuously on researching _something._

I decided to lay low for a little while. The stream of ghosts had quelled for the time being, and maybe allowing Sam to overcome whatever hurdle she was running towards would make her more susceptible to the truth.

At least, that's what I thought.

At the beginning of the next week, Sam didn't show up to school. Naturally I figured she was exhausted from whatever she had been busying herself with to avoid me.

But halfway through the school day, the police showed up instead. The red and blue lights on their cars startled me so much that I almost jumped out of my seat when I saw them reflected on the cafeteria walls. Luckily everyone ran to the windows to see what was happening anyway, so I was able to cover my blunder. I had become very skilled at being a human, but there were some things I still couldn't get a handle on.

All of the students were ushered into our classrooms, and we waited anxiously to hear the news. The police rarely showed up this urgently; something was clearly wrong.

Finally, after over an hour of waiting, the teachers disbanded from their meeting with the police to come into the classrooms to deliver the news.

I'll never forget it, either.

Mr. Lancer closed the door behind him as he entered the classroom, sighing heavily. He stood at the head of the class and folded his hands behind him, gazing out the window.

"Class… something tragic happened last night at around midnight," he said. I saw worried glances out of the corners of my eyes and I saw Tucker tense beside me. I tried to hide my shaking; I don't know what the connotation of 'tragic' is here, but in the Zone… 'tragic' and 'death' go hand in hand.

"Miss Manson…"

My heart skipped a beat—

"…she was kidnapped last night. Or so the police think."

And then it stopped.

There was one collective gasp from the class, but I was so stunned my breath caught in my throat. I actually started coughing because of it. When I recovered Tucker was staying straight ahead, mouth open in shock.

"We wanted to inform you in case anyone had any information about the kidnapping," Mr. Lancer continued. "According to police, there are signs of a mild struggle, which indicates a kidnapping. Two windows in her bedroom were also broken."

_That rules out a ghost_, I thought to myself. _Why would a ghost need to break windows?_

"However, because Miss Manson has been exhibiting some… _bizarre_ behavior recently, the police are investigating other possibilities as well. It's possible that something may have rattled the poor girl's mind a bit too much."

I shrank down in my seat. This was _impossible._ There is no way that finding out the truth about me could have set her back so much. That isn't like Sam at all. There was something else going on. There _had_ to be.

But then again… how much do I really know about her?

"If any of you have any information… please, come forward with it immediately. We're keeping you here until the end of the day so the police can investigate the school grounds."

With that, the students let loose on one another, speaking excitedly about the recent events. Tucker and I just turned to each other in shock.

"I don't believe this," Tucker said. "She's been… kidnapped."

"That's just so… _unlikely,_" I said, turning in my seat. "I can't believe—"

_Windows._

Suddenly, my brain clicked. Something so painfully obvious clicked in my brain. I must have shown some sign of my realization in my face because Tucker was giving me the most bizarre look I had ever seen.

"Um—"

"Tucker," I said, grabbing his arms, "we need to go to Sam's room."

"What? Why?" Tucker asked, wincing slightly. I was shaking, I was so excited, and thus accidentally hurting him.

"I think it's a setup," I said, leaning in close to him so we could speak softly. "I think a ghost took her and made it look like a human kidnapper to throw us off."

"Um… Danny, that's a bit of a stretch," Tucker said skeptically. But it made sense. Somehow, it made sense. All of the people closest to me were being picked on by some outside, unseen force that was after me. So a ghost going to all that trouble to hide the girl I love? It made sense to me.

"Just trust me on this, alright?" I said. Tucker just stared at me. "There's some crazy ghost out there who's overjoyed at the fact that they just 'successfully' threw us off their track."

"Danny, be reasonable," Tucker tried to say, but I was so wrapped up in my ideas I didn't listen.

"First we'll go to the crime scene just to double check. Then we'll sneak into the Fenton portal and try to find her – I bet the Fentons have some kind of DNA tracker or something – and then we can rescue her, and maybe then she'll trust me as a ghost, and—"

"Danny!" Tucker said, raising his voice slightly. The class grew quiet at the outburst. Tucker glared at them and they all looked away, murmuring. Tucker rolled his eyes and pulled me so close to him that our foreheads touched.

"Phantom, listen to me," Tucker said in a tone I'd never heard from him. "This isn't some ghost hunt. Sam is a real live girl who is really _missing._ This is real life now. I think we should leave this to the real live _human_ police. I don't think someone who isn't even human can really help her now."

I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. _How_ could he not see what was so _obvious?_ Sam wasn't kidnapped by a human; she was taken by a ghost. I just had to get him to the crime scene, and then he'd see for sure.

Right?

"Tuck, if you won't help me… then I'll do it on my own," I said, pulling away from him. I stood up, wondering if he would follow, but he didn't. He just sighed and shook his head.

I was so angry that I could feel the energy building in my body. I stayed for one more moment, then, against the wishes of Mr. Lancer, I opened the door and tore out of the room, becoming invisible as soon as I was out of sight. I heard Mr. Lancer run out into the hallway and cry out "Where did he go?!" before I left the parameter of the building and zoomed up into the sunny sky.

I was going to find her on my own.

* * *

_Ahh... I feel so corny! But this was so essential to the story. Ech. I have no exscuse for no updates since October, so I won't give any. Well, I do have 1. College applications. And AP English. Okay, I have 2. But that's it. Umm, this is laaaaame. This is a pathetic chapter. But the later chapters will be better, I promise... well, I think they'll be better, I dunno what you guys'll think. I've had the first half of this typed literally for months, I was just unsure of where to go. Then I decided to ditch an original part of the story for another one. Yay!_

_I haven't watched DP in months. I should do that. I miss it! _


	13. Thirteen

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Thirteen-_

_

* * *

_

_Windows, windows, windows._ The words continued in a mantra in my mind. It seemed so painfully _obvious_ to me, how could Tucker not see it? My thoughts were enveloped by what had happened for the rest of the day. I was so preoccupied I walked into – and then through – a door. I stopped, glanced around to make sure no one noticed, and continued slowly.

_I have to go there._ I have to go see what happened. What if there was a vital clue,

or—

"Danny? Hello?" Tucker's voice invaded my head and I realized I hadn't moved from the stairwell of the school. He put his hand on my shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. I sighed.

"Sorry, Tucker," I said, my voice low. Even I was surprised at how soft I spoke. He pushed his glasses up on his head and rubbed his face, staring at the floor.

"I know what you're going to do," he said, turning to me. I've never seen his face without his glasses before, and his eyes are quite striking. I was taken aback at how bright they were, like emerald orbs boring into me. It caught my breath.

"Just... when you're there... don't touch _anything,"_ Tucker said finally through gritted teeth. He pulled his glasses back down. "Don't _touch_ anything, don't _move_ anything, just – don't."

"Why not?" I asked. "What if—"

"I know you're convinced it was a ghost," Tucker said sternly, cutting me off. "But, in the more likely chance she was actually _kidnapped,_ police will need those close."

"But—"

"Danny! Please, just stop!" Tucker cried out, standing in front of me. I closed my mouth, frowning at him. "Danny, please listen to me. Her family is wealthy. There are numerous reasons why she would be kidnapped. She could be dead – or worse, _dying._ Being _tortured._ Please, just... just don't make it any worse than it is." Tucker just looked at me, hiking his backpack higher onto his back.

Tortured?

"Does... does that happen?" I asked, feeling foolish as soon as the words left my lips. Tucker nodded solemnly.

"I know you're not used to humanity, but you've seen the results of what we can do," Tucker said, his voice tingeing with sadness. Now that I thought about it, it never fully occurred to me the process of how the souls of the damned ended up _in _the Zone. Just that... they were there.

"Do you want to come with me?" I asked tentatively. Tucker sighed deeply and shook his head.

"No. This... this isn't something I can do right now," he admitted. "But if you find something, _anything_, that proves your theory right... I'll help you any way I can." I smiled at him and held out my hand – I've finally gotten used to human connection.

"You promise?"

Tucker looked up at me and smiled as well. He grasped my hand and shook it firmly.

"Always."

* * *

Her room was in shambles. Her black duvet and plum sheets were thrown over her bed, one of the posts with deep scratches, like fingernails. Her short bookcase was toppled and her books splayed everywhere, pages torn from their binding. I remained intangible the entire time I was in her room so as not to disturb anything, but everything was disturbed in itself. Her skylight windows were jagged and cracked, shards of glass littering the floor. Whatever happened here, it looks like it was violent.

I shivered. I had to hang onto her bedpost to keep myself from collapsing from the shock. I wandered over to her mirror, which was cracked. There was a _lot_ of destruction in her room, as if a great struggle happened here. It didn't seem like "minor damage" to _me._

"Dear God," I murmured. I walked around the room surveying all the damage. This was something beyond human, I was sure of it.

Whatever happened, it was clear that Sam was taken straight from her bed – there was no mistaking that. Despite this, the rest of the room seemed... odd. I wandered over to the skylights, phasing through the thrown books and yellow police tape. I couldn't figure it out. I was so sure that the problem was a ghost that I was seeing flaws everywhere. If she was taken from her bed, was she dragged all around the room? How come the mirror was broken? Why were both skylights broken? Why was there nothing left? I smiled. This _had_ to be a set-up. There's no way a human could do all this.

_...right?_ I crossed my arms and stared up straight through the skylights. It was then I noticed the blood on the jagged edges of glass. Frowning, I hovered up closer to the windows, inspecting them. There it was, shining in the late afternoon sun like dangling rubies. I could feel my heart sinking. If she was taken by a ghost, why would there be blood on the window...

"It was horrible," I heard a voice say. I spun around and went invisible as quickly as possible, trying to make my breathing slow down to a normal page. Sam's mother was in the doorway, and two police officers had walked into the room, standing and surveying the horrible sight. One was holding a clipboard with several sheets of paper; the other was standing with his hands on his hips, staring up at the walls.

"The banging, the screaming..." the red-headed woman said in a soft voice. I watched her shiver physically in the doorway, hanging onto the doorframe like it was holding her up. I had the feeling it was.

Banging? Screaming?

Was it possible she _was_ taken by a human?

"And you didn't see anything? Your positive?" the officer who was staring up asked, probably for the dozenth time. The woman didn't answer.

"Mrs. Manson, we're going to have another sweep of the room done as soon as the first round of results come through," the first officer said, writing something down and handing it to her. "I know it will be hard, but please stay out of here until we do."

"If you need help, or anything," the second officer said, placing his hand on the frail woman's shoulder, "call this number. This woman can help."

"Th-thank you," she replied, breathing deeply. "I-I just—I just don't understand why anyone would want to _take _her. Earlier this month she was involved in a horrible accident and now—" She covered her face with her hands and knelt on the floor, her entire body trembling.

At that moment, I was _furious_. Whoever, or whatever took Sam... it had to pay. Sam had already gone through so much in such a short time. If Sam was getting treated like this, who was next in my life to get hurt?

I couldn't concentrate. I had to leave. What if she _was_ taken by a human? I can track ghosts fine – they leave such a distinct trail it's almost easy. But a human? They outnumber us on their plane by the millions. How was I supposed to find her now?

I phased outside and collapsed onto a bench. The sky above me was darkened and clouds were rolling in by the droves. I had never felt pain like this. I felt like my heart was on fire, and my chest was filled. I almost couldn't breathe.

I didn't even realize that someone had sat down beside me on the bench, until I heard a soft beeping. I turned and Tucker was there, as always. I was relieved to see him there. He always seemed to know where and when to be somewhere.

"So? What was the verdict?" Tucker asked, turning to me. I shook my head.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "It seems ridiculous to me that all that damage in her room was caused by just her and someone else –"

"—I thought it was minor?—"

"—_but_, it seems that, well... she may actually have been taken by a human." Tucker nodded gravely.

"That's what I thought." We sat in silence for a time, me thinking everything over. If this was really unrelated... then _another_ thing I had to worry about had just crept onto my plate. I felt as if I were teetering at the edge of a canyon and there was nothing to keep me from falling over the edge besides my own sense of balance. I even gripped the bench, digging my fingers into the wood.

"Phantom... Danny," Tucker said, correcting himself. "Since you are Danny..."

"There must be something we overlooked. There _must_ be some sort of, I don't know, security or something, right?" I asked, turning to Tucker. Tucker glanced up at the brick brownstone house, and suddenly his eyes widened.

"There _is,_" he said, pointing up. "Look." I followed his fingers and saw what appeared to be a black shining ball mounted on the edge of the building. One was over the front door and there was another at the very top, almost flaring down at us.

"Security camera," Tucker said, turning to me. "Danny, this could be it."

"Well, let's go look at it," I suggested, standing up. My heart leapt. Humans have so many techniques for keeping track of each other... it was amazing. Tucker shook his head though, which surprised me.

"No, not now. Later. Meet me here at midnight tonight," Tucker said, standing up beside me. He pulled out his PDA and punched in some numbers, glancing up at me. A smile crept onto his face.

"I thought you didn't want to help me," I said cautiously. "Why the change of mind?" Tucker sighed heavily.

"...I guess... I don't know, to be honest," he replied. "I guess in a way it was a change of heart. Sam is my friend and... I don't know why, but I feel... I feel safer with you involved," he said slowly. He pocketed his PDA. "I feel like I can do more when you're around. Things that I never even dreamed I'd be capable of doing, like fighting, or breaking into an advanced security system," he said, gesturing up at the security cameras. "It's almost like I know that I'll be okay around you, because..." he trailed off. We looked at each other. I shivered violently as a chill ran through me.

"Is there a name for the feeling that you've done something before?" I asked. He nodded.

"Déjà vu," he replied. "Normally it's the feeling that you've been in a very specific situation before but actually never have."

"I get that feeling practically all the time," I muttered. Tucker raised his eyebrows.

"Weird, because it's happening to me a lot more now... " Tucker added. "For example, I feel like I'll be okay and I can actually do this and find Sam because... it's not the first time I've had to." We stood there, looking at the building.

"So, here at midnight?" I reaffirmed. Tucker nodded.

"You're good at ghosts; I'm good at computers. Together, maybe we can actually find Sam."

"I really, really, really hope you're right," I said, and began walking with Tucker away from the house. I stopped and looked back up at it, back at the darkened window I knew led to Sam's room.

_Please, please, please be safe,_ I thought to myself. _Please._

_

* * *

_**Heeeeeeeeey.**

**When I start things, I try really, really hard to finish them. I'm determined to finish this. Also, sorry that the first update in two years is rather slow... oh the plot. **_  
_


	14. Fourteen

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Fourteen-  


* * *

_

"So, I don't know how much human entertainment you've seen," Tucker said, checking and re-checking the locked door. "But on TV and stuff, computer hacking is always this big production, and every single computer is encrypted with all sorts of firewalls and whatnot." Tucker flicked on the computer and a dull glow blasted the darkness, competing with the glow that my ghostly body was emanating. We were in a dark room in the Manson's attic that was filled with desks, chairs, screens, and all sorts of papers, from charts to reports to handwritten notes on various notebooks strewn about the room. It was their security hub.

"In reality... people are stupid."

"What do you mean?" I asked as the computer beeped to life. Computers were still a foreign thing to me, something that I'm not sure I'd ever really get used to. It seemed like a primitive, complicated version of Master's instruments for observation.

"I mean that people are very trusting with their electronics, and their passwords are usually super easy to guess," he said, drumming his fingers on the desk. He typed in something and another screen came to life. "See? The password for the whole system was 'Manson'. I'm assuming it was set up like this so the Manson's could easily check their security cameras."

"Oh..." I said, not sure what he was talking about. Tucker glanced up at the various screens above the computer monitor. Each one was numbered. He frowned.

"Each camera has its own passcode," he muttered to himself. "Danny, is there any list or anything of which camera goes where?" I glanced around, not sure of what I was looking for. Each screen above the computer was very small and square and had numbers drawn on with some sort of pen. I walked over to the pile of papers on an adjacent table and shuffled them around, glancing at the information. It was just basic notes on goings on around the house, nothing major. As I was moving the papers over, I noticed a small, thin black book. I opened it and right on the first page was a list of corresponding numbers and names.

"Hey Tucker?" I called, lifting the book. Tucker glanced at me. "I think I found it."

"Awesome, what does it say?" he asked. I frowned.

"Well it says that Sam's room is camera... 313 and 315."

"Excellent," Tucker said, typing the numbers in. "I bet those are the... yup. Knew it. The passcodes for the cameras are the _camera numbers._ See, Danny, when someone is useless with computers, they're information is practically ours for the taking."

"Really?" I asked, placing my hands on the chair he was sitting in.

"It's amazing how flippantly people will treat something as important to them as their security." Tucker went silent and continued clicking on things, his eyes never straying from the screen.

"So the police have probably gotten copies of all this footage," Tucker said, leaning back. "But if they see anything it'll be a blurry still or four seconds of footage that they release. That's useless to us. What we want is... there, look," he said, tapping the glass. I leaned forward, squinting. To be honest the screen was just blurry and I couldn't really discern anything. But Tucker had noticed something, and that was all I needed to look.

"Do you see this?" Tucker said. "Look, look here. Sam is here-" he pointed to a dark form inside Sam's elegant four-poster bed – "and then suddenly, she disappears." He clicked, and as the form shifted, there was a light, and she was gone from her bed. My eyes widened.

"Her room is completely intact," I murmured. Tucker sighed heavily and cupped his chin in his hand, his brows furrowed.

"Yeah..." he said. "Yeah, it is. And then the footage ends, look." The picture began shivering violently, and then darkened. Lines appeared on the screen and the words _offline_ flashed in the corner.

"So something came in, took her away invisibly, and then shut off the camera?" I said, half-asking. Tucker spun around in his chair to face me.

"You were right," he said, looking up at me. "There _was_ a ghost. Or something paranormal at least."

"But, what about the blood? On the window?" I said, remembering the skylight. "And the marks on the bed? If it was a ghost, how did _that_ happen?" Tucker shrugged and swung around. He replayed the footage of Sam's kidnap several times as if waiting for something to change. He then opened the other camera in Sam's room, from a different angle, but this one was even less helpful.

The more Tucker played the video, the worse I felt. I had a strange sensation at the bottom of my spine, as if I _knew_ this was going to be useless. It seemed that every lead we got led us further from her. And the further we got, the more her life slipped away – or so it seemed.

So it was ghost, but how were we supposed to find that ghost? Finding a ghost among humans is nearly impossible, especially if they're even a little bit cunning. And this ghost knew what it was doing. It _knew_ how to confuse us. It—

"You okay, Danny?" Tucker asked, glancing up at me with concerned eyes. I had gotten lost in my thoughts again, and I was gripping the chair until my knuckles turned white. I let go of the chair and rubbed my hand, which was now turning red.

"I just... I just don't know what to do," I admitted. "Tucker, I was put here. In this town, in this place, by my Master, and I don't know _what_ I'm doing here." Tucker leaned back in the chair, his back to the screen. He pulled his legs up and crossed them, placing his hands in his lap.

"You're a dead Fenton," he said. "Maybe that's why you're here."

"What?" I said, startled. "Tuck, what on earth do you mean?"

"I mean – and bear with me here – but... the Fentons hunt ghosts. And they're pretty good at it from what I've seen," Tucker explained. "You _are_ a ghost. _And_ you're a Fenton. Which means that maybe you're twice as good at it."

"Well... maybe," I said, but I felt unconvinced. That didn't really make sense... did it? "Are there any other cameras we can look at? What about, I dunno... that one we saw outside or something?" Tucker's eyes widened and he pushed himself around. I sat down on the floor, crossing my arms. It was so much to absorb.

"Holy... holy..." I heard Tucker say.

"What? What is it?" Tucker beckoned my over and I ran over, not even conscious of the racket I must have been making. He pointed to the screen.

On the corner of the street, near where we had been sitting, a figure appeared, holding Sam. Sam pushed herself away from it, attempting to run away, but the figure shot something bright out of him and somehow contained her hands, forcing her to the ground. My grip tightened on Tucker's chair again out of anger.

The figure was holding her down when suddenly _another_ appeared of the figure and zoomed inside. Sam and the figure remained outside, arguing about something – and then he picked her up and disappeared.

"That's him. That's our guy," Tucker said. "Recognize him at all?" I squinted.

"Play it again?" and he did so. I stared at the figure. It had some sort of black cloak on, shielding its face and body. I really couldn't tell who or what it was, until—

When the duplicate formed, it turned for a split second and a face was seen. I gasped.

"Tuck, go back," I instructed and he obliged. He paused it on that one scene and I got as close as I could to the screen. I wasn't sure if getting closer would make it better to see, but I had to try. I could see a thin, pointed face with stark features, and brilliant white hair...

"Oh my... Oh my God," I whispered. "It's him. It's Vlad."

"What?" Tucker said, looking at the screen."Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," I said through gritted teeth. I didn't realize I was grimacing until I felt the pressure in my mouth and unclenched my teeth, rubbing my jaw. Things I was so used to doing without any real feeling still took me by surprise.

"Vlad Masters," I said, stepping back. A bright light overtook the room and I felt my ethereal form come out. I hadn't even summoned it this time – it just happened.

"We have to find that bastard," I said.

"I agree," Tucker suggested, spinning around. "So how the hell _do_ we find him?"

"If this is guy is _anything_ like Plasmius" – and I had a feeling he was – "then he's hiding in plain sight," I told Tucker

"Don't you think that if we were able to identify him, the police will?" Tucker said. "What if they get there first?"

"They won't," I said suddenly, surprising even myself with the declaration. It just seemed to make sense. "He can outwit them."

"How do you know?" Tucker asked. I turned to him.

"I have no idea. I just know."

* * *

The more she struggled, the rawer her wrists became. She was sure she could feel blood in her palms now. The cuffs were digging into her wrists and there was nothing she could do about them. She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavy. She could hear footsteps outside the door. She attempted to wiggle her way near the large bed against the wall in an attempt to hide, but her energy was mostly gone and there was no way she'd get all the way there.

The heavy oak door opened slowly and light poured into the now darkened room. Sam squinted in the light and stiffened as a tall, thin figure entered the room.

"Miss Samantha, really, you don't have to spend all your time on the floor," the man said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. Sam just glared up at him, her mouth clamped shut. He flicked on the light and after a few flickers the lights turned on, illuminating the guest bedroom. One of the very many.

Vlad Masters walked up to the girl and knelt down in front of her, one arm on his knee. The keys to the handcuffs jingled gently in his pocket as he leaned forward to speak to her.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," Vlad said, in a voice so sweet it had to be fake, "to call the Phantom."

"No," Sam whispered. "L-leave him alone."

"Why should I? What could possibly happen here? He is dead, I hope you know," Vlad said, narrowing his eyes. Sam shook her head.

"Why does it matter if he comes here or you go there? You have no p-problem f-finding people," Sam said, her voice still barely a whisper. Vlad shook his head.

"It can't be in Amity Park. Too many people. Too many ghost hunters. Out here? We're in the middle of _nowhere,_ Samantha. Granted, Amity Park isn't as... well endowed with ghost hunters as I'm used to, but it's still dangerous." Sam's eyes widened just a tiny bit, but Vlad knew she reacted to what he had said.

"I've lived there my entire life," Sam said, regaining her voice. "The Fentons are the only ghost hunters I've ever met."

"Yes, well..." he said nothing after that. He just looked at her, and Sam felt like she was being violated with his piercing stare. Finally he stood up and turned towards the doorway.

"...how did you know my name?" Sam asked suddenly. It had been gnawing at her since she was brought here. "How did you know where I live? How do you _know_ me?" Vlad stopped and turned around. He turned back and walked over to the door, locking it. He walked back over to Sam, grabbed her shoulders (no matter how much she scrunched away) and forced her forwards, grabbing her wrists, and unlocking the handcuffs. He pocketed them and stood up. Sam grasped her wrists, which were red and bleeding. She looked up at him.

"You're allowed to use anything in this room to your comfort; besides, night is falling,"

"You didn't answer my question," Sam said, wincing at her wrists. Vlad backed up to the locked door.

"You don't want to know the answer," he said, and as Sam watched in disbelief, he phased right through the door.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter was so... dry and blah. Just trying to move the plot along a little bit. We're getting on to the end, but we still got a ways to go.**

**I was looking through the chapters of the other stories and when I lasted updated before I vanished, I hadn't even applied to Boston University. I'm now a junior there. Oh how time flies! Let me know of any critiques, it's been awhile and I'm rusty.  
**


	15. Fifteen

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Fifteen-_

_

* * *

_

"So... where are we going?" I asked. Tucker's hands were gripping the wheel tightly, and he acted like he barely heard me. I could tell he was struggling to pay attention to wherever we were going.

"This Masters guy. He lives in Wisconsin, remember? I looked up his exact address and that's where we're headed."

"Is Wisconsin a city?" I asked, clueless as usual. Then I remembered. "Oh, wait, it's a state. Right?"

"Yeah, you got it... for once," Tucker responded, but his smile vanished as he concentrated on steering. I gripped the edges of my seat tightly, the belt that was across my chest feeling like it was doing absolutely nothing. We were in some sort of flying capsule that we, according to Tucker, "borrowed" from the Fentons.

"Do you know how to steer this thing?" I asked as we brushed the tips of some rather high trees. Tucker glanced at me without moving his head and focused back on the wide window that was in front of us.

"I'm fourteen, I don't have a license or anything," he said. I wasn't sure what he meant, but I'm assuming he was saying he really didn't know how to steer.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the left side of the vehicle dipped and Tucker jumped, pulling back on the handles of the machine. We leveled out quickly, although the momentum threw me sideways. My belt came in handy as it caught me, but it caught me on my shoulder a neck, leaving a stinging sensation behind.

"Tucker, if we die, it's _your_ fault," I said as we straightened again. Tucker sniggered.

"Can you even _die,_ Danny?" Tucker asked without thinking. "I mean, you're _dead._" He immediately looked at me again and I frowned at him. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I suppose," I said, leaning on the edge of the machine. We were crossing huge, vast fields of green and forests that seemed to go on for miles. There didn't seem to be a city in sight.

"What are we flying over?" I asked.

"The Midwest," Tucker offered. "It's a lot of plains and farms and stuff. I'm trying to bring us on a less populated course to people don't see us." We sat in silence as Tucker looked down at his phone, sighed repeatedly, and continued driving us along, the vehicle only wobbling a little bit as opposed to before. I just trained my eyes on the windows, watching the grey and black clouds gather in the distance. I had no idea just what state Sam was in – was she hurt? Was she safe?

Was she even still _alive?_

"...you know this is probably what he wants, right?" Tucker said after a time. I didn't respond. "He's probably using her as a trap to get you out here in the middle of nowhere."

"I know," I said, turning to him. "I know it is. But I have to get to her. From what I understand of how Plasmius works, he doesn't wait around to get what he wants."

"Danny, we recognized him from that camera footage," Tucker said to me. "Don't you think that once that image is released – if it hasn't been already – someone else will make the connection?"

"He's a powerful man," I murmured. "If he's anything like Plasmius, he can get himself out of any situation. As far as I'm concerned, your mortal police force is not going to help the situation at all. Besides, how many people in the area of Amity Park even _ know_ Masters? Besides the Fentons, who may not even make the connection themselves..." I trailed off. The air stiffened in the cabin and I knew Tucker wasn't as convinced as I was.

"What is this vehicle anyway?" I asked, trying to crack the silence.

"It's called the Spectre Speeder, and according to Jazz it doesn't really work... But it seems to be functioning from what I can see," Tucker said, not really talking to me so much as himself. He placed his phone on the dashboard, the screen lit. "I'm using my Droid as a GPS now because I'm stupid and forgot I had GPS," he explained, grinning at me. I shrugged at him. "How is it you've been here nearly two months and you still don't have a grip on technology?"

"I feel like you have a better grip than most," I replied. "Maybe—"

_Scccccrushhhhhhhhhh._

The sound of metal being shredded came from beneath us as the small lights edging the ship began flashing. The cabin suddenly went dark, with only the flashing lights as a light source.

"Oh, shit," Tucker murmured. A shiver ran down my spine. _A ghost._ "Well, this is _fantastic._"

"It's a ghost," I said, leaning forwards. I stood up and walked to the glass, looking down below us. Tucker had stopped the vehicle nearly to a crawl to conserve energy, for we were damaged. "I'll go check it out." I phased through the glass and out into the wilderness, looking for the culprit. I hovered beneath the vehicle and saw the claw marks; something very strong had just etched it's presence into the Specter Speeder.

"Tucker, I don't know how good you are with these things, but—" as soon as I started speaking, I sensed it. The ghost. I turned and saw it; it looked like large, ferocious animal, with spiked green fur, huge claws and a wolf-like face, baring its unruly fangs at me.

"What the hell are you," I murmured, but stood my ground. "Tucker, you may want to continue on... I have something to take care of."

In the vehicle, Tucker was fiddling with his phone, trying to figure out where to go. He pulled a map out of his backpack and tried to use it as a reference, but there were no roads in any direction for him to find a relation on the map.

"We are so screwed it we're lost," he said, more to himself than to me. I steadied myself, waiting for that first lunge, that first blow—

But it never came. The wolf-like creature never advanced on me. Instead, it beckoned to me, said something in another language, and pointed. In my ghostly form I knew I was more formidable, but I actually had no idea what he wanted.

"Are you fighting anything?" Tucker called from the window.

"I found something," I called back. The creature pointed past tree tops, saying something worriedly. "I think this thing wants us to go that way." Tucker leaned out the window and narrowed his eyes into the sun.

"That's the same way the GPS is pointing," he said. "Hey, if this guy wants to help us, why the hell did he damage our transport?" I looked at the creature, allowing Tucker to ask the question himself. The creature just gestured and said something else, but once again I couldn't understand a word of his language. It didn't seem to matter, though; he knew where we were going somehow, and he wanted to help.

I went back inside of the vehicle, and allowed my human form to wash over me. Tucker had his hand on the brake, the vehicle hovering in place. The wolf-like creature was in the top of a nearby tree, hunched over, its shoulder blades haunched high and its teeth yellowed and baring.

"So should we follow him?" I asked. Tucker shrugged.

"It could be a trap, Danny. This could all be a huge trap." I considered Tucker's thoughts, but I remained unconvinced. There was something about this creature... it - he seemed genuine. The sanguine look in his eyes, his mangled fur... he was trying to help us, not hurt us. He seemed too hopeful. Hopeful and depressed at the same time. A ghost that has been separated from his afterlife, from just having peace. I've seen this kind of action before. Maybe he held a grudge against Vlad or something, but he was kind.

"If it's a trap, this ghost isn't part of it," I said, my voice soft. I looked into the beasts eyes longer, trying to figure out just what it was...

"Danny... Danny? Phantom? You okay?" Tucker's voice hit me suddenly and I turned to him, as if he had waked me up quickly. I looked down and realized there was a dim white glow around my body and I felt like I was radiating cold air.

"Yeah... I think I was connecting with that ghost," I said, nodding to him. The ghost cocked back his head and howled. "He wants to help us, Tucker. He attacked us to get our attention... he didn't mean to damage our vehicle."

"How do you know this?" Tucker asked, incredulous. I grinned.

"We just know these things, Tuck."

* * *

After traveling a few more hours, the ghost wolf brought us to the outskirts of Vlad's property. Tucker's GPS was going to lead us practically to his front door because of the labyrinth of woods and roads leading to his quiet manor, but the ghost knew just where to go.

When we arrived, a police car was outside the front. The ghost wolf led us to around the back near a gigantic shed, where we could hide the vehicle. He flew after we thanked him, motioning to the house in a disgusted fashion. That left Tucker and myself outside, vulnerable without his watch.

"So, if Vlad _is_ Plasmius or is working with him, wouldn't he have like a ghost shield or something?" Tucker asked. I turned to him.

"Well, _we're_ not ghosts, are we?" I said, smiling at him. I grabbed his wrist and dragged him up the steps of the back porch to a huge sliding glass door.

"I'm gonna phase us through, and then we're gonna stay invisible, you got that?" I told Tucker. His eyes widened.

"Danny, if he has a ghost shield—"

"Trust me," I whispered, and I felt the familiar tingling sensation of solid becoming intangible. It felt like my entire body was being submersed in freezing cold water, but I was still completely dry. I pulled Tucker through the back door and into an even larger area, complete with leather chairs and a fireplace. I phased us into a closet and made us tangible again.

"Okay, so here's my plan," I whispered, pushing my bangs off of my forehead. My dark hair was starting to become a pain as it grew much longer than I was used to. "I'm gonna sneak around and try to find Sam while invisible. You stay here until I find her, then I'll come back for you," I told him, trying to listen to the sounds of the house while whispering. Tucker frowned.

"So what, I'm just gonna sit here doing nothing?" Tucker asked as I prepared myself to leave the closet.

"Well, you can't go invisible, so what is there for you to do?" I asked him. He crossed his arms angrily.

"Look, Danny, I've been an only child my whole life. That leaves a pretty boring life when it's time for all my friends to go home – except if I sneak back out," he said, a smile creeping onto his face. "I'm pretty good at sneaking around, Danny, and whether you want to believe it or not I'm going to help you find Sam."

"Fine, fine, whatever," I said, becoming invisible inside the closet. "Just don't get caught, please, because that could mean the end for Sam." I left the closet and wandered into the main room, greeted by a double grand staircase leading up to at least two other levels of this house. There were no sounds save for the settling of the old house... but I had no idea where to even start looking. This house was _huge_. She could literally be _anywhere._

"Please be alright," I whispered to myself, and I bounded off through the first floor, looking in all the rooms I could find. Grand ballrooms, dining rooms, offices, guest bedrooms. Everything that a gigantic mansion of a billionaire could need, I suppose. I didn't start finding anything promising until I reached the third floor, which was noticeably less grand and more like living quarters. I figured this must be where, say, servants or family members lived.

I walked down a dimly lit hallway, trying to find any signs of a person, when I heard it. It sounded like soft footsteps coming from behind one of the doors. Each door was covered in a thin layer of dust and each door was considerably aged, as if no one ever really came up to this level of the house. I walked silently down the hall, trying to identify which door housed the walking person. Finally, I found it, and phased through the door.

I stepped into a room with an elegant four-poster bed, deep red velvet curtains, wooden walls and a crystal chandelier at the top of the room. It was larger than I expected and incredibly beautiful like the rest of the house, but it had a more homey, lived-in feel.

"Wow," I breathed, making myself visible again. Suddenly, I heard a gasp from the other side of the room. I glanced toward the sound, and saw her.

Sam.

She was crouching next to a large dresser, half way in the closet, probably hiding. She stood up, her eyes wide and shocked.

"Danny?" she whispered. I smiled and opened my arms as she fell into them, both of us collapsing to the floor. She wrapped her thin arms around my back and I held her head to my chest, stroking her hair.

"Oh, my God, Danny, I can't believe you're here... I was so scared..." she trailed off, her words getting lost in my chest.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay? What did he do to you?" I asked, the questions falling from my lips faster than I was thinking about them. Sam withdrew her arms from me and shook her head, her eyes glittering with tears. As she was moving, I saw her wrists and her arms – red and swollen.

"What happened to you?" I asked, grabbing one of her arms. She pulled back, wincing.

"I was ha-handcuffed," Sam admitted. "Danny, what are we going to do?" I shrugged.

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know what's happening anymore..." She grabbed my hands and held them tightly. "Danny, he knows things about me." I blinked at her in confusion.

"Wait, what?" Sam shook from fright.

"He knows who I _am,_ he knows where I _live,_ he knows my _family_, he... he knows everything _about_ me. He even knows my birthday, the place I was born – Danny," she said, staring straight into my eyes, "he knows things about _all_ of us." She clenched my hands so tightly I could feel her nails digging into my palms.

"Sam, calm down," I said, trying to be reassuring. "We'll figure out what's going on here..." Sam looked down at the floor, and then back up at me.

"How did you find me? How did you know I was here?" she asked. I smiled.

"The same way the cops did, I'm assuming," I answered. "I saw Vlad on your parents' security tape."

"You... he was caught on security?" she asked.

"Yeah, and there was a police car outside. Sam, I'm gonna get you out of here, and we're gonna go back to Amity Park, and I promise everything will be okay." Sam just nodded. All the peaceful confidence she exuded before seemed to have vanished from her demeanor.

"Why did he take you? Did he tell you?" Sam sighed.

"He wants _you,_ Danny, wasn't that obvious?" she said. I nodded.

"Yeah, it pretty much was. But I'd rather come here and face him then risk him hurting you," I said. Sam smiled weakly. I pulled her to my chest again and hugged her shivering body. This was all such a mess. Hadn't she already suffered enough at the hands of rogue ghosts? Why was this happening? Why was Vlad _after_ me? And... why was he working with Plasmius, most importantly.

"I'm gonna go find Tucker," I said, letting her go again. "I'll be right back." Sam nodded and I left the room, searching the gigantic mansion for him. I found him on the second floor, hiding in a closet. He seemed paler than before and slightly in shock... had something happened to him? My heart sped up at the thought.

"Danny, I—" he started, but I clamped my hand over his mouth, grabbed his torso, and dragged him up through the floor with me into Sam's room. I let him go when we became tangible and visible and he tumbled to the floor, coughing.

"Tucker, are you alright?" Sam asked. Tucker composed himself and looked up at his, a wild fear in his eyes.

"Danny, I was trying to tell you – Vlad, he found me!" Tucker gasped. My eyes widened.

"What?" I cried. Tucker bit his lower lip. "Why didn't you mention that?"

"I was trying to hide from him, and then you came, and now he probably knows we're up here with her!" Tucker said, his voice growing in volume as he spoke. Sam attempted to quiet him by making a "shush" sound (I'd only heard that sound once, it was strange) but Tucker ignored her.

"Yeah, he found me, and he kinda started chasing me and I just hid in that closet... I don't know what's happening anymore," Tucker said, sighing. "Danny, I'm so sorry. It was like he was one step ahead of me the entire time."

"Well, what are we going to do?" Sam asked. "Vlad knows you're here, so he'll probably—"

Suddenly, a cold chill fell over the room. There was a clicking sound, and the room dropped in temperature. It felt like a cold breeze was flowing through the room without any wind moving at all.

"Oh, no," I whispered, and I stood up and ran to the door, going intangible—and I was flung back onto the carpeted floor as the door refused to let me go through it.

"It's some sort of ghost shield," I murmured.

"He knows we're here," Tucker said, standing up with aid from the dresser. I stepped back from the door, panic setting into my stomach. That familiar feeling of dread and pain began tying my stomach into knots and I had no idea _what_ to do.

"Yes, yes he does," a voice said, coming from all corners of the room. Sam stood quickly trying to distance herself from the walls.

"Where did that voice come from?" she whispered. The door handle clicked and turned, and a tall, thin, aging man with a head of brilliant white hair stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. I backed up as he walked forwards, his light blue eyes lighting up at the sight of me.

"Hello," Vlad said, his lips curving into a smile. "Long time no see, my boy."

* * *

_This chapter literally took forever to write. I don't know why, it just did. Also, I started this story before Season 3 started airing, so I'm struggling with the ending and Season 3 & PP. Gah. Anyway, I would have posted this earlier but I was watching Toy Story 2 for the third time in six days two nights ago when I saw that Disney would be airing Meet the Robinsons the next day. I have actually been wanting to see that movie for about... two years now? And it's not ANYWHERE on the internet, to either rent or download. So I watched it instead of writing this. And it was on AGAIN today! Because I love it so. Now the only Disney digitally animated movie I haven't seen is Ratatouille. I should get on that. ANYWAY I hope you guys enjoy this, I apologize if it's rushed/shotty. I'm just trying to finally get through to the end. Hoorah._


	16. Sixteen

**Empyreal**  
**_empyreal _**_(em-**pir**-ee-uhl) adj. - pertaining to the highest heaven in the cosmology of the ancients._

_-Sixteen-_

* * *

I had never felt fear such as that moment. Vlad was as unassuming of a man as one could be; thin, aging, wearing out-dated clothes. He could pass as a ghost even though he was still alive. But his _smile_, nearly baring fangs, and the glint in his eyes…

Sam stumbled backwards so quickly she lost her footing and hit the hardwood floor with a loud _thwump_, whacking her elbow on the bedside table. She grabbed her elbow and hissed darkly but her eyes remained trained on Vlad, all of the color draining from her face. Tucker was faring just as well, although he seemed to be transfixed with Vlad as he crossed the threshold and closed the door with a soft _click._

"You three," he purred in a low voice. "Oh, _you three._" I glanced back at my companions, and they gave me harried looks. I really wasn't sure what to do; nature told me to fight, but sense told me _holy crap he's going to hurt someone. Don't be stupid._

"Why did you take our friend?" Tucker spit out a moment later, leaning back on his palms, eyes narrowed. He was much braver than I gave him credit for. "What is she to you?" Vlad pressed his lips into a thin line and stared _hard_ at each one of us in turn; Sam whimpered, Tucker's limbs shook as he suppressed anger and I could _feel_ my entire body heating up to intense degrees.

_I could take him_, I thought. _It wouldn't even be hard. I could end this. I don't care about his reasons._

"I can't even—oh, it's just too much for me right now," he said cooly. "I was having an easier time with the police force that are intruding on my land right now, oh, it's just all sorts of _delightf_—"

"Shut up," I muttered. Vlad closed his mouth but grinned at me. He was dawdling; he had a plan up his sleeve, he _had_ to. Out of the corner of my eye, Sam was still hovering in the corner, holding her elbow, but she was watching Vlad's legs with narrowed eyes and a calculating gaze. Tucker kept throwing glances her way, and I clenched my fists.

We were planning, too.

"I can see you down there, Samantha," Vlad said, still staring straight at me. "Always the fighter. You've all done very well, so _let's see what you can do._" I was ready and willing. I was _exhausted,_ Sam was hurt, Tucker seemed like he was going to _strangle_ Vlad—

"Time… OUT." And everyone froze.

Except Vlad and myself. We practically crashed into each other as our momentum was thrown off, but I didn't even notice that a figure had appeared between us because I just wanted to tear Vlad to pieces.

"I _said_ stop," the voice said again, and a hand stopped me in my tracks as I transformed and attempted to throw myself at Vlad.

"Augh _let me go_—" I panted, trying to shove through the object in my way, but the gloved hand holding me back had a peculiar number of watches all over it and seemed to be attached to a very familiar arm… I glanced up and was staring into the vacant eyes of none other than Master. Vlad seemed startled as well, for he was sitting on the floor, staring up at Master with a look of confusion. But as soon as he recovered he was back on his feet, that same disgusting half-smile covering his face.

"Enough, child," Master said, extending his hand to help me up. Vlad just watched us, although he frowned when he saw my real form and my Master's insignia around my neck. "It is a good thing I returned when I did, or I would have been too late."

"Too late? For what? For me to get _him?_" I asked, pointing at Vlad. Master sighed in the heavy way he did when he was annoyed with me. "Master, _please, _I don't understand," I begged, although his arm was still in front of my chest, preventing me from jumping on Vlad. Master knew what was going on; I hadn't a clue.

Master rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, as if he was in pain. Sam and Tucker were paused mid-air, Tucker looking like he was about to throttle someone, Sam preparing to push herself off the floor in attack. Even the sunlight that had filtered into the room seemed to hesitate at my Master's bidding.

"It's… complicated," Master explained.

"Yes, very," Vlad said from in front of us. I bared my teeth at him (oh how I wish I had fangs like some of the fiercer of our kind) and that same heat that had flooded me before had returned. It was a strange feeling, since I was in my ethereal form, to experience the heat of hatred. Humans had an emotional range far wider than any ghost.

"So it _is _you. I was right," Master murmured. I turned to Master with a pleading look.

"Master, he kidnapped—" I started but Master silenced me and focused on Vlad.

"What are you _doing_ here? Don't you _realize_—"

"What? That I'm _playing with time?_ Yes, it happens," he said, adjusting his jacket. He walked over to where we were standing, but took no notice of me, avoiding the daggers from my eyes.

"Plasmius, you are _dead_ here," Master said, clutching his staff tightly.

"To whom? No one remembers and I got rid of all the evidence – well, except one," Vlad replied, nodding towards Sam. "Samantha found it. I thought I had gotten everything but I clearly didn't."

"You didn't get the obvious _grave_ either," Master said. Vlad shrugged.

"What, no one's going to be visiting it anytime soon, I have no family," he replied.

"You can't be here," Master said, glaring at Vlad.

"And why not? Who's stopping me? You're certainly not. And these three? They're _completely useless_," Vlad bellowed, throwing his arms into the air. "The only ghost hunters around are the Fentons and they're as incompetent here as they are elsewhere." Master didn't say anything. I looked from Vlad, to Master, and back again. Vlad turned and gave me a smile.

"And _you_," he said. "You're twice as powerful and half as knowledgeable. I prefer you this way far more than that _other_ Danny Phantom I know, the prick." I just stared at him.

_What on earth is he talking about?_ I thought to myself. The look on Vlad's face, the amount of power he exhibited... there was something about this man. Something very, very strange. He has seen things, experienced things that are beyond the realm of anything I could ever see. I could tell.

"Enough," Master demanded. "If you were trying to be discreet, Plasmius, you stretched yourself too far and _I noticed. _I am here to put a stop to this, right now. You will be imprisoned—"

"And you'll be sent to _hell_ where you _belong!_" Vlad cried suddenly, and both Master and I gasped in surprise. Sentencing an innocent spirit to eternal damnation…

"Unless you tell him," Vlad said, gesturing to me. "Tell him about _me_."

"ENOUGH!" Master said again, pointing his staff straight at Vlad's throat. Vlad gulped and looked down at the staff, which was glowing. I knew from experience that it could be a formidable weapon, and Vlad was (at least part) human. He was neither immortal nor invulnerable and he knew it.

"This isn't necessary information," Master said, moving forwards toward Vlad. "What has happened in the past, has happened. What has happened in another time, has happened. I don't know how or when you gained my abilities, but you will never have the power over time that I have."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Vlad asked, only moving his ice blue eyes upwards. His breathing was heavy.

"Because I am a fool sometimes, and I didn't realize," Master responded.

"Realize what?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had time to process them. Master raised his eyes and looked at me. His staff faltered, and Vlad took the opportunity to push the staff out of the way and came right up to me. He gripped my shoulders and got as close to my face as possible, while I shrank away.

"Realize that I'm not from here," he said, a smile curling onto his lips. Master pulled Vlad away from me.

"This is not the same boy, Vlad," he said, his voice softening. "Your goals are fruitless here."

"What do you mean 'here'? Where's 'here' verses anywhere else?" I asked. Now I was getting frustrated. Sam and Tucker were still frozen around me. "Master, I don't understand. All this time – something was happening, wasn't it? What is going on? Why am I in Amity Park? Why did you place me with my family?" the questions came pouring out in a torrent and I couldn't stop them. Master lowered his staff.

"You know?" he said. Even Vlad seemed surprised. My face became hot and suddnely they were both staring at me.

"Yes, I… I know I'm a Fenton," I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I could feel my human heart pounding. "I just want to know _why._"

Suddenly, the world around us shifted. Master looked up in shock as time released itself. Tucker fell over and Sam pushed herself up only to land on her knees, glance around, and then scream and jump backwards.

"W-who are you?" she cried, pointing at Master.

"I must have lost my concentration," he murmured. I stepped back and helped her up. Tucker looked up, looked at Vlad and Master, and sighed.

"I can't believe I'm getting used to this," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

"I just don't understand," I said, standing up. "Please, Master... please tell me." Master sighed. Vlad smirked.

"Phantom... Daniel," Master said, using his staff to steady his elderly form, "the Ghost Zone is tumultuous. It is dangerous. It is trans-dimensional. It is the past, present, and future at once. And because of this, everything that is affected by the Ghost Zone is connected. Including different..." He sighed once more and turned away. I just stared at him. Behind me, Tucker was holding onto Sam, who was breathing heavily. I could hear Tucker's soft voice a gentle _thud_. They must have sat down.

"Sometimes the choices we make and the circumstances we find ourselves in create links to alternate timelines. The Ghost Zone is one – but it is connected to many, many versions of the human world. I am one of the few ghosts who is purely one," Master said, his voice laced with apprehension. I nodded. "That is why I would vanish for days, weeks at a time... I was in other places."

"Tell him what else is up," Vlad said, nearly ordering him. He had his hands behind his back and a wicked grin played over his face. I hated the way he subjugated Master like he was some rudimentary lowlife of a spirit. The _glee_ in which Vlad said every word made me want to rip out his stupid throat—

"...There is more than one of you, Daniel," Master said, finally. I simply stared back at him, attempting to form words or at least react in some way but it seemed as if everything in my brain had been switched off. My angry thoughts turned to mush as a tremor ran through me _there is more than one of you_ does that mean… were all my theories off? Was I not who I thought I was?

The tremor increased to my limbs and I found myself shaking my head; blood was rushing through my ears and making a sound that was _deafening._ I stepped back, breath caught in my lungs and throat, and there was a burning sensation that was new and _painful_ coursing through every part of me. Master just remained where he was, watching me.

"In other versions of your life, you were born. And you lived. And in each one, you are, somehow, both a ghost, and a human, at once, at one point." I didn't dare turn around to face Sam and Tucker, considering they were probably doubting their own sanity at the moment.

"I get it," a soft voice said from behind me. Reluctantly I turned and saw Sam, half laying in Tucker's lap, sitting up, her face even paler than normal, sweat rolling down her thin cheeks. Tucker gave her a glance that said _You get this?_ But he said nothing. "You," she said, pointing at Vlad. "You're not from this... dimension or whatever, are you? That's how you knew who I was." Vlad nodded.

"The me of this time? Dead. Long, long dead," he said. "That article you found, my dear Samantha, is the only bit of truth that remains about me. I have to say, you have lived a completely different life from the Samantha I know, yet you're just as clever." Sam just stared at him, unsure of how to take the information.

"Just... just where are you from?" I asked cautiously. Master narrowed his eyes at Vlad but Vlad completely ignored him.

"I'm from a place so different from here that you wouldn't even believe it if I told you," he responded, walking over to me. A low rumble was heard throughout the room, and it was then I noticed that the sky had darkened. "The point is, I had no place there. I had to leave. So I did... and now I'm here. And your precious Clockwork didn't even notice. I'm not even the right _age_ for this year and yet he didn't notice," he said, turning to Clockwork. Clockwork just closed his eyes.

"You've damaged enough," Master said. "Now one reality is aware of the others, _now_ we will have problems. My job is not only to make sure things happen as they are supposed to, I am also supposed to watch over these realities and make sure they don't mix. Every choice we make, Phantom, leads to a million and one different consequences, and I make sure the right one is primary."

"Primary? Wait, so there's one that's right and the rest are just mistakes?" Even _I_ was surprised by the agitated tone that Sam's voice took. She pushed herself away from Tucker and stood up. "What the hell are we then?"

"This reality is an interesting one," Vlad said, ignoring Sam and looking up at the room. "It's so different... calming, yet boring, but as long as I get what I want, it doesn't matter to me." With that, Vlad snapped his fingers and suddenly my body was frozen. Master was frozen as well. Sam and Tucker were unaffected but silent.

"Where I come from, you're a powerful little pest," Vlad said, two inches away from my face. "You are a half-ghost, half-human brat who has powers that develop twice as quickly as my own, and you've created quite a following as – get this – a little _super_ hero." He sniggered. I couldn't move but my heart was moving a mile a minute. _Is this the truth?_

"However," he said, frowning to himself, "you've all but banished me from existence, after a long time fighting against you. So I left. I came here. I found the one solid enough reality that was as different from the primary as possible. And here we are, my dear Daniel Fenton." Vlad grabbed my arms, pulled them forwards, and slapped something like hand cuffs on them – hand cuffs that were ghost-proof. He snapped again, and I could move, but my center of gravity had been thrown off and I fell to the floor. My head connected to the floor with a great thud, and piercing pain rushed through me. I had just enough time to hear a yell and watch something dark and quick rush at Vlad—and then I was out.

* * *

_I... graduated college...?_


End file.
